


For All Your Faults.

by AuctorVitae



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Cheating, Divorce, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family, Implied Sexual Content, Irish Mafia, Italian Mafia, Murder, Organized Crime, Protective Bellamy, Russian Mafia, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Violence, car crash, too prude to write smut but it's hella implied or am i?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-07-06 09:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15883725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuctorVitae/pseuds/AuctorVitae
Summary: The Blakes are one of the deadliest families in New York, along with the Azgedas and the Murphys. Bellamy Blake is the heir to the Blake legacy and has been preparing for his whole life to take over the empire his father has built, but what will happen to that when Clarke Griffin, the picture perfect daughter of an award winning engineer and renowned surgeon, accidentally gets involved in Bellamy's dangerous world of murder, lies, betrayal and deception.





	1. Chapter 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Oof okay so a bit of context before you read.  
> Figlio-son  
> Sorella-Sister  
> Madre-Mother  
> Padre-Father  
> I haven’t written a modern au before, I wrote the basics for the start of this au ages ago but picked it up this morning. Nervous as heck about it because this mob stuff is gonna need a lotta research, anyways enjoys :)) ps ignore the typos I'm lazy

The first time Bellamy had ever fired a gun was the week after his tenth birthday. His father, Antonio Blake had called him from the grand sitting room of their country home in New Hampshire to follow him into the vast space they called a backyard. A young Bellamy had followed his father out of the already open back doors and onto the large patio that overlooked acres of land. 

But on a small glass table a few feet from where Bellamy stood was a closed silver briefcase, the mid afternoon sun beating onto the reflective surface. His father approached the briefcase, fiddling quickly with a combination, before opening it with grandeur. 

Laying in the middle of the briefcase, in a bedding of plush, black material, was a Beretta. His father took it up in one hand, tossing it lightly in the air and catching it in his other hand. He turned to his son, who couldn't take his eyes off the handgun. Antonio walked forward, holding the gun by the barrel, he forcefully placed the handle of the gun in his son's hand. 

"Don't act so surprised, figlio, everyone in our family must learn to use a gun, even your sister." 

Bellamy looked up at the fierce face of his father before nodding. He didn't want to use a gun, but being the son of a mafia boss and the heir to a legacy of murder and betrayal, you'd think guns wouldn't scare him. But, they did. He wrapped his hand around the handle, the gun large in his smaller hands, he trudged past his father to stand by the table. Bellamy only now noticed a target around ten feet away. He raised his arm, listening to his father's instructions on how to operate the weapon. His left hand holding the most part of the grip, his right hand nestled beneath his left. He took a deep breath, firing the gun at the target. He fired the whole magazine, only hitting one of the outer circles once, the other bullets, however, had gone somewhere else entirely.

He lowered the gun, turning to look at his father. Antonio walked forward slowly, looking at the target with one measly bullet hole. He plucked the gun from his son's hands. "Your madre said you weren't ready." He looked at Bellamy for a moment, "She was right."  
Bellamy opened his mouth to protest, suddenly eager to try again to prove to his father he could do it. Before he could speak, he stopped himself. 

"Go inside, figlio." His father ordered, already neatly placing the handgun back in the briefcase. Bellamy lingered for a moment, watching his father, before turning and walking back inside, sighing to himself as he entered the doors to the sitting room from the back yard. 

It would be three years until Bellamy would fire a gun again, but this time he didn't have the luxury of missing his target, or even have an inanimate object as a target. His father woke him up in the middle of the night in their mansion on the outskirts of New York. The light from the hallway just enough to illuminate the door and to silhouette his father's figure. 

"Wake up, figlio, come with me." His father spoke in a hushed tone, "And do not wake your madre and sorella." 

Bellamy frowned, throwing his sheets back as he got out of bed. He looked at the red writing on his alarm clock, the time read 2:34 AM. Bellamy wiped the sleep out of his eyes, and followed his father out of his room. Bellamy looked around, were they going out somewhere? No, they couldn't be as Antonio led his son past the front door and towards the basement door. His father opened the door to the basement, stepping aside to Bellamy to walk through. 

Bellamy looked down, the dim light of the basement creeping up the concrete stairs of the basement he hated so much. He pressed himself against the wall at the top of the stairs, shaking his head, "Padre, please, I don't want to go down there." Bellamy pleaded, looking up at the solemn face of his father. "Do not talk such nonsense, Bellamy." His father ordered, "Go down those stairs this instant." He spoke in a cold, chilling tone that was worse than his mother or nanny screaming at him. Bellamy took a deep breath, peeling himself off the wall and slowly descending the concrete stairs.

He looked to his left, in the light of the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling sat a man in a chair, slumped forward with a linen bag over his head, with rope tied tightly around his middle. On either side of the man were his father's bodyguards and henchmen, Lorenzo and Guilio. Bellamy stood towards the back of the room, his father coming down the stairs after shutting the door. Antonio looked at his son, before pointing at the same briefcase on a pedestal that he had seen three years prior. 

Lorenzo stepped forward, opening the briefcase to reveal the same beretta, he stepped back beside the bagged man, resuming the same stance as Guilio. Antonio took the gun from the briefcase, walking to Bellamy and narrowing his eyes at his son, "Do you know who this man is?" He asked Bellamy, clicking his fingers with his free hand. Guilio broke his stance, pulling the bag off the man's head. He began to thrash like a shark hunting it's prey, his large eyes darting around the room, his crazed stare landing on Bellamy, who looked away instantly.  
"No, padre." Bellamy replied in a small voice, keeping his stare on the ground. 

Antonio lifted his son's head by the chin gently so he faced the man, "He is an enemy of our family." Antonio kept a firm look on his son, "And, figlio, you know family means everything." 

Bellamy nodded quickly, beginning to feel his legs shake as he realised what was about to happen. Antonio pressed the gun into Bellamy's hands. The feel of the gun sent chills down Bellamy's spine, looking up to see the man panic and struggle against his restraints. 

"Shoot him." His father said simply. 

Bellamy took a deep, shaky breath, "I can't." 

"You can, Bellamy, you will." His father spoke again, his voice clear and calm. 

"Padre, I can't kill anyone." Bellamy pleaded, looking up at Antonio.

Antonio blinked, before lowering himself so that his mouth was level with Bellamy's ear, "Not even if your sister was at risk?" His breath was hot in his ear, making Bellamy shudder. His father had always been a manipulative man, but he was right. If Octavia had been at risk from this man, Bellamy would have killed him in a heart beat. Antonio straightened up, taking a step back, "You won't leave this basement until he is dead."

Bellamy suddenly found something unseen pull him forward and his hand with the gun raised, as if he couldn't control his movements. The man screamed through his gag, thrashing harder and harder against the rope. He was screaming something along the lines of, "Fuck you!"  
As Bellamy could understand it, but the man wasn't looking at Bellamy, but rather, at Antonio. His father didn't react, he simply checked his Armani watch and tutted, "Hurry up, figlio." 

Bellamy looked at the man, flicking the safety off the handgun. His finger curled around the trigger as he aimed the gun between the man's eyes. Bellamy took a deep breath, before squeezing the trigger. 

The man's head flew backwards as the bullet hit him in the forehead, blood and brain matter sprayed up onto the wall behind them. The man slumped back, blood dripping on the floor. The noise of the gunshot bounced off of the walls, causing Bellamy's ears to ring.  
As he looked around the room at his father, Lorenzo and Guilio, none of them the slightest bit phased at the sight of a thirteen year old boy shooting a man in the head.

Bellamy slowly put the gun on the floor, his hands shaking as though he were cold, but it wasn't the coldness of the basement causing him to shake, it was the horrific act he had just committed. As he stood up, his father put a hand on his shoulder, "Run along, figlio, you've done well." His father spoke as if he were giving Bellamy a well done for a simple mundane task, rather than murder. Fathers were supposed to teach their sons to play football, or ride a bike, not murder their enemies.

Bellamy raced up the stairs and through the house to his bedroom, throwing himself onto the bed and covered his shaking body with the blanket, his mind racing. He wasn't a boy anymore, Bellamy knew that all too well.

But from that day forth, Bellamy was never afraid of the monsters in the closet, or under the bed. The monster slept in the bed with him, under his clothes, in his skin. He was the monster, and he had to live with that all his life.

\----------13 years later----------

The drive from the Blake mansion in the outskirts of New York to the slightly smaller, but just as prestigious Blake holiday house in New Hampshire wasn't too long, but as a now 26 year old Bellamy sat in the back of a sleek, black audi, he felt impatient and that the journey was too long. 

He lay his head against the window as the fields and trees and the odd mansion rolled by. There were a million other places he would rather be at that moment, perhaps in his upper east side apartment drinking beer and watching sports with Murphy, Jasper and Monty. But, he was here, in a car that smelled strongly of bleach, going to that cursed country house with Octavia, who sat next to him scrolling lazily through her phone. 

The car took a right turn off the main road down a country road, he instantly recognised it, the large lone tree in the field on his right brought back childhood memories of him and a boy from the local town setting up a makeshift swingset out of rope and a half rotten plank of wood on one low hanging branch. 

The car drove up the road for half a mile, before turning swiftly onto a familiar gravel driveway on the left. Tall cypress trees lined the long gravel driveway leading to the country house, the car pulled up outside, Bellamy noticed two burly men standing outside the front door, a handgun just visible in their hip holsters. 

Bellamy didn't wait for a butler to come and open a damn door for him, they'd wipe his ass for him if he asked for it. He stepped out, shutting the door behind him as he looked up at the mansion in front of him. He looked to his left to see a butler helping Octavia out of the car. She held onto the top of the car as she struggled to walk on the gravel in her ridiculous heels. 

Bellamy smirked, "Regret wearing those stupid shoes now?"

Octavia shot him a look, "Shut your mouth." She quickly tottered towards the granite steps, Bellamy joining her as they walked up the steps together. The two guards opened the double doors, allowing the Blake siblings to walk in. 

The foyer was something to behold. Two twin marble staircases leading to a balcony on the second floor overlooking the foyer. A prestigious chandelier hanging directly above Bellamy's head. It had been a while since he had been here, but as beautiful as it was, he never enjoyed it. He wasn't here for leisure either, he was here to meet with the head of the Azgeda family, Roan, or as he was known in the mafia world, 'The Ice King'. A dumb name really. 

His father had insisted that Bellamy meet with the Azgedas to organise some kind of a treaty as they had some sort of a turf war going on in New York. Deciding who supplied weapons in what areas had never been easy, and nobody in the mafia world could forget about the massacre between Azgedas and the Blakes almost thirty years beforehand at the docks when a large shipment of machine guns supplied by the Blakes had arrived, only to be greeted by dozens of hitmen and assassins hired by the Azegdas to slaughter anyone working for the Blakes, and among those killed were Bellamy's uncle and Antonio's brother, Matteo. 

Ever since then, the two families had been killing, lying and cheating they way to become the bigger, more powerful family. Bellamy knew the rivalry was so bad, it would never be fully reconciled, but his father had bigger fish to fry. There was a chance that they would attempt to assasinate Bellamy at this upcoming meeting, but that would be a bad move, not unless the Azgedas actually wanted to be slaughtered in the same way the Blakes were. 

Bellamy had the rest of the day to prepare for that as the meeting was at 9:00 AM sharp the next day so he headed straight for the grand sitting room. The large fireplace was already lit, family photos filled the mantlepiece, both Bellamy and Octavia's graduation photos and their parent's wedding photos. He collapsed onto the deep burgundy couch, running his hand through his messy hair. He lay back, taking a few calming breaths as the thought of the meeting clouded his thoughts. He needed a distraction.  
He fished out his phone, unlocking it as he opened his messages. He pressed on the group chat icon, beginning to type.

{Bellamy}  
just arrived at this dumbass house, someone kill me if the azgedas dont lmao

Murphy replied almost immeadiately.

{Murphy}  
gladly, or yknow you could stick a gun in your mouth 

{Monty}  
kill yourself after youve smoothed everything over w the azgedas

{Bellamy}  
if i do, theyre ruthless and you cant reason with them

{Jasper}  
glad im not involved in this gang shit

{Bellamy}  
lmao you talk to us, so you are involved

{Jasper}  
fuck it

Bellamy switched the phone off, tucking it into his pocket. He shut his eyes, laying his arms over his eyes as he tried to drop off to sleep. He only got about 4 hours last night, so he may as well get some sleep now, before he was either shot in the head or beaten within an inch of his life the next day.


	2. Chapter 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg this chapter is trash and I rushed it, it's embarrassing to read but oh well here we are. I promise to make it better but for now bear w me.

The ER was the busiest she had seen it in a long time, the hallways buzzed with the sounds of the staff yelling and people wailing from pain. Stretchers lined the corridors, some with patients and some lying empty. Clarke emerged from a store cupboard after a quick ten minute mental break down sitting against the wall, she retied her hair into a low ponytail as she rushed up the hallway towards the front desk. 

She ran towards the front desk as she jogged out of the hallway, putting her hands on the desk as she leant in to talk to the receptionist over the sounds of phones ringing and people chattering. 

"Where's my mom?" She yelled over the shouts. 

The receptionist, Carlie, paused for a moment, half thinking it over while she worked away on the computer, "She's in, uh, treatment room 4?" She said, not meeting Clarke's eye. 

"Thanks." Clarke said, not sure if Carlie heard her, before taking off towards treatment room 4. She dodged people walking up and down the hallways, almost colliding with one of the people from the medical board, "I'm so sorry!" Clarke gabbered, her face flushing a deep red with embarrasment. The man grunted and dismissed her, as soon as he began to walk away Clarke continued to bolt down the corridor. 

As soon as she reached the room her mother was in, the door slammed open before she could even touch the door handle, in the doorway stood Abby, who glared at her daughter as she approached her mother, gasping for breath as she stopped running. 

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Mom, I - I can explain."

Abby held her hands up, taking a deep breath to calm herself down as she met her daughter's eye. 

"Don't bother, I can't keep making excuses for you, Clarke! You're incompetent and you're always late, you've only gotten this far into your residency because I've vouched for you, I can't rely on you, Clarke!" Her mother stepped outside of the room, closing the door behind her. Clarke was stunned, her eyes landing on the floor while her mother berated her as if she were a child. It wasn't like she could protest, her mother had a reputation to uphold, and she couldn't let Clarke's carelessness ruin that. Clarke looked up as her mother placed her hands on her arms, looking pained as she searched for anything to say to Clarke.

"Just go home, I need to think over whether the residency program is right for you."

"Mom, please, I -" 

"No! Go home before you make anything worse."

Clarke sighed, running a hand through the loose strands of hair before nodding. She turned in place and walked back up the corridor, she barely paid attention to people walking into her as they steamed down the corridor from all directions. Clarke looked up as the shouting increased the reception, shouts of panic and distress. She quickened her pace, frowning as her walk broke into a run. 

The doors to the outside swung open as a group of paramedics and doctors alike ran alongside a stretcher. Clarke froze as she saw a familiar face running along with one of the doctors, her face scratched up and blood trickling down her face as she shouted at one of the doctors and whacked on his arm. She squinted, unsure if it was who she thought it was until the woman caught her eye too, her eyes widening momentarily before turning her attention back to the person on the stretcher. 

It was Octavia fucking Blake. 

Clarke pushed her way forward towards the moving group of people, ignoring people yelling at her as she pushed them out of the way, "Octavia!" She yelled at her old school friend. Octavia looked up, meeting Clarke's eye again, "Clarke?!" She cried, making her way towards her, practically collapsing in her arms.

Clarke struggled to hold her up, the brunette clinging onto her for dear life as she sobbed into her shoulder. Clarke stared at her in awe before pulling her up, glancing at the gash on her head. 

"What the hell happened to you?!" She asked worriedly, gripping Octavia's arms to keep her up. She blabbered incomprehensively, mascara stained tears streaking down her face, Clarke managed to decipher the words, 'Car crash' and 'fuck' and 'dead'. 

Clarke shook her to get her attention, "Octavia, slow down and talk to me!" 

Octavia looked up, her jaw trembling as she blinked back tears, "Someone tried to kill us."

"What?"

"T-the driver! He just ran us off the road, I don't know why! The car flipped, I - I don't know how I'm alive but the driver is dead a - and Bellamy might not - "

Clarke frowned, Bellamy was the one in the stretcher? It was only then when she realised that the stretcher had dissapeared out of sight and into the surgery theater. She looked back to Octavia, brushing the hair out of her face, "I'll get someone to look after you, and I'll make sure Bellamy is okay."

Clarke called over one of the other residents, telling them to take care of Octavia and see to her injuries. Clarke let go of Octavia's arms, who tried to grab onto Clarke as she sobbed and wailed for her to not leave her.

Clarke ran down towards where the stretcher had gone, she knew she shouldn't be doing this, if and when her mother found out she would certainly be kicked from the program, but now wasn't the time to think about that. The brother of someone who she had spent her teen years being friends with could die, and Clarke wasn't about to let that happen. She barely remembered what Bellamy was like, or even what he looked like. What she did remember, however, was that he was four years older than her, and usually hung around with the sons and daughters of prestigious business men and women. In short, he was an asshole. 

Clarke ran towards the surgery theater, dodging people as she ran. She burst inside to the prep room, heading towards the glass and ignoring the protests of the surgeon already washing her hands. Clarke pressed against the glass, catching sight of Bellamy laying motionless on the table, she glanced up towards the monitor, showing an unsteady heart rate. He was alive. That was good. 

One of the surgeons already working on him looked up suddenly, catching Clarke's eyes. They furrowed their brows and leaned into another coworker and nodded in Clarke's direction. She looked at the surgeon closer, realising it was Abby. Clarke groaned, stepping back as the surgeon Abby spoke to walked towards the door leading to the prep room.

As they walked in, they pulled their mask off, looking at Clarke with an exhasperated expression, "Clarke, you need to leave, you're not under any authorisation to be here." It was Jackson, her mother's assistant. Clarke moved towards him, grabbing onto his arm, "Jackson, you don't understand, I need to find out how he is, I have his sister getting treated and she's hysterical."

Jackson narrowed his eyes, before glancing at Abby through the glass, he sighed before turning back to Clarke, "He'll be okay, he has internal bleeding but your mother is on it. He had a piece of glass lodged in his stomach from the car window."

Clarke gave a sigh of relief, stepping back and releasing Jackson's arm, "I'll tell his sister." Clarke started for the door, before Jackson called her back, "You tell her, and you leave, your mother told me she told you to go home."

Clarke nodded, "I will, I swear."

She pushed the doors open, walking out with the doors swinging shut behind her. She walked towards the room where Octavia would be. As Clarke walked in, she saw Octavia sitting on the bed, a timid looking medic stitching the gash on her head. Around her stood two people she recognised, Antonio and Aurora Blake, Bellamy and Octavia's parents. It was only then she realised two burly men standing by the door on either side of her, both Italian looking in origin. 

Antonio walked forward, a strange look on his face as he offered a hand out to Clarke, she took it slowly, he shook her hand briefly before letting it go, "Clarke Griffin, I remember you."

"Mr Blake." She said respectfully.

"Are you a doctor now?" He asked, returning to his wife's side, "Surely you're too young."

Clarke gave an awkward smile, "A first year resident, I'm a few months into the program actually."

He nodded, "Well, thank you for taking care of my daughter," He gestured to Octavia, who sat on the end of the bed, a blank look on my face, "You two were always such good friends."

Clarke nodded, confused as to why nobody had asked about Bellamy yet. She glanced around the room, her eyes landing on Octavia, who quickly averted her eyes to look elsewhere.

The medic finished stitching the gash on Octavia's head, clumsily gathering up the medical equipment before rushing out of the room, knocking into Clarke as he left. She turned her attention back to Antonio, who was murmuring something into his wife's ear.  
"Uh, did you want to know how Bellamy is doing?"

The Blakes looked towards her, Octavia spoke first, getting up and walking to Clarke, "How is he?"

Clarke fumbled for words for a moment, uncomfortable with all the eyes on her. The Blakes had always been an intimidating family even since she was a child, she had always avoided going to Octavia's house when she invited her. 

"He'll be fine. My mother is a wonderful surgeon, she'll have him out of the theater in no time - It was a piece of glass lodged in his stomach from the crash." She added, looking to Octavia, a small smile breaking out on her face as she heard the news. 

"Thank you." Octavia whispered, clasping Clarke's hands momentarily before letting go and retreating to the bed. 

Clarke gave a final nod to the family before turning and walking briskly out of the room, the door being shut by one of the guards behind her. She frowned, disturbed by Octavia's strange behaviour and Antonio and Aurora's disinterest in their severly injured son. Clarke pressed herself against the wall, just an inch or so from the door. She was aware people walking past saw her but she didn't care, she covered her other ear as she listened in on the family on the other side of the wall.

"This was the Azgedas doing." Someone said, most likely Antonio.

"I thought Bellamy had worked everything out with their representative?"

"Obviously not."

"Trying to kill the heir to the Blake empire, it's a good tactic, I will give him that, but they failed."

A brief silence followed.

"They will pay for this in blood."

Clarke's heart hammered, weren't the Azgedas one of those crime families in New York? What was Antonio Blake doing talking about them? And why the hell were they talking about killing and 'paying for it in blood'. Clarke pushed herself off the wall, heading straight for the exit as she pulled the hairtie from her hair, letting her blonde waves hang around her shoulders. Then it hit her. Something she had so naively ignored the whole time she had known the Blakes. 

For someone with an intellect like Clarke's, it had taken her 22 years to figure out that the Blakes she knew, were the infamous italian mafia family with a deadly rivalry with the Azgedas. She took a deep breath as it registered with her, she ran a hand over her face, taking calm collective breaths. 

She was associated with a mafia family, and she couldn't let any future job opportunities be prevented by a tarnished reputation.  
Promise yourself, Clarke, promise yourself you'll have no more to do with them. 

She would damn well try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, the next chapter will be about bellamy meeting w the azgedas and the car crash and a lil time skip to when he's recovered and we will have that much loved bellarke angst


	3. Chapter 3.

A Few Hours Earlier...

The rendezvous point for the meeting was in a mostly abandoned industrial estate around ten minutes from the holiday home in New Hampshire. After the meeting they would be escorted back to New York to feedback to Antonio on the meeting. 

Bellamy checked his watch, 8:56 AM, four minutes until the meeting began. The car he was in pulled up outside the warehouse. He frowned, seeing nobody outside. He lingered in the car, his hand resting on the handle of the car interior. 

The driver looked behind at Bellamy, noticing him not moving, "I will return as soon as the meeting finishes with your sister, sir." 

Bellamy nodded, only half listening as he pushed open the car door, stepping outside onto the tarmac below. He tugged his jacket sleeves down as he walked briskly towards the door of the warehouse. He pulled it open, stepping inside into a long, dimly lit corridor. At the end, stood a tall man, around 6'5, wearing an all black suit and a gun in his hand, Bellamy found himself approaching the man. His footsteps loud as he made his way down the corridor. 

The man stepped aside, pulling open a large, heavy door as he did. Bellamy paused, looking into the room as he stood outside. To his surprise, Roan Azgeda wasn't sitting at the lone table in the centre of the room as he had expected, but rather a woman.  
Two men almost identical to the guard outside stood on either side of her. 

She stood up, walking slowly around to the front of the table to greet Bellamy as he made his way inside. She gave him a smug smile, raising her head as he approached her. The woman offered her hand out to Bellamy, he glanced down, noticing a large ring, an intricate A embellished in the centre of the ring. A for Azgeda. 

Bellamy took her hand, about to shake it until realising she had meant for him to kiss it instead. He brought her hand up to his lips, brushing his lips over it briefly before releasing her hand. 

The woman turned, walking back to her seat and sitting down. In her heels she was the same height as Bellamy, maybe slightly taller, long brown hair hung down her back and large brown eyes. She couldn't look more like an Azgeda if she tried.  
Bellamy sat down opposite her, resting his hands on the table. "I thought I was meeting with the Ice King himself." Bellamy smirked, sitting back in the chair.

"You were," The woman spoke, leaning forward, "But unfortunately he is out of the country right now, so you'll be meeting with me instead."  
"And you are?"

"Echo Azgeda."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at the woman, "You're Roan's sister." 

Echo nodded, "But don't worry, Mr Blake, I assure you I'm just as capable of organising our two family's businesses just as well as my brother."

"I never said you weren't." Bellamy replied, rubbing his chin with his hand.

"No, but you were thinking it," Echo sighed, "Don't worry, I don't blame you, it's normally the men who do business like this, they expect us women to just sponge off their dirty money and dress up pretty." She smirked, glancing at the table before looking up, "I mean, I've never turned my nose up at the money I've been given by my brother, but I like to get in on the business too."

Bellamy looked at Echo, she sure as shit wasn't what he expected, "You talk about our business like it's about something legal, not distributing firearms and drugs."

Echo smiled, a perplexing and mischievious smile, "Isn't that a form of business too? It is, after all, how we make our money, is it not?"  
Bellamy sighed, eager to get on with it. He had insisted on not having any of the Blake bodyguards go with him, he needed to prove that he 'trusted' them enough to make this deal with the Azgedas. Not that he did, of course, but lying was all part of the plan.

"How about we get on with this then?" Bellamy asked, tapping his index finger on the table.

Echo leant down, bringing out a rolled up map of New York from underneath the table and laying it out. "We've taken the liberty of labelling the four areas we already do business in." She pointed to the four different boxes drawn onto the map with a red marker, "My family are currently in charge of the upper east side and the lower east side, while you are in charge of the upper west side and the lower west side." Bellamy looked at the map, about to speak before Echo began to talk again, "Of course we have smaller gun and drug dealers in our areas but nothing too threatening, but my family and I don't know if it's such a wise idea to let the Murphy's use your area to - "

Bellamy held his hands up, cutting Echo off, "They aren't in that business, they're built off of hitmen who have worked for my family for decades."

"Still," Echo continued, shooting Bellamy daggers from her dark eyes, "They're part of the prominent Irish mafia in New York, sooner or later they'll fall into your business, and then we'll see how good of a friend they are to you."

"I didn't come here to trash talk the Murphy family." Bellamy growled, aware that the guards behind Echo had tensed.

Echo didn't seem phased at all by Bellamy's aggressive tone, she simply smiled, before turning her attention back to the map, "So," She said, an airy tone in her voice as she traced her finger around the map in an almost seductive manner, "My brother has a proposition for you."  
Bellamy looked up, interested in what Echo said. Sure, it could be a trap, but this feud was a pain for both parts. If the deal Echo was about to suggest was good enough, the heads of the Italian and Russian mafia could draw a line, start over and become neutral. 

"Go on." Bellamy said, gesturing towards Echo, who grinned.

"Your sister," Echo purred, her eyes glinting, "Would do very well in our family, as my brother's wife." She stopped, seeing the anger boiling up inside Bellamy, very visible on his face. His fists clenched from under the table, his fingernails digging into his palms, "No." He said through gritted teeth. 

"Hear me out, Bellamy." 

"I said. No." 

"You will listen to what I have to say."

Before he could utter another protest, Echo continued to speak, "Let's be real here, the only way our families will ever have a connection is through marriage. Neither of our families will give up the land we own, and, I am sorry we lied to you about rearranging our sale areas to get you here, but how else would we have gotten to suggest this? Your sister would be treated well, she could be the very key to peace between our families, we could take New York together!" She enthused, leaning across the table as she spoke, very purposefully showing cleavage as some kind of fucking persuasive technique. 

Bellamy stood up abruptly, causing Echo to retreat back across the table. If those guards weren't there he would have thrown her across the room, beaten the shit out of her for even suggesting such a disgusting proposition. 

"My sister," He spat, "Will never be your filthy, fucking scumbag of a brother's wife."

His chest heaved as Echo met his eye in an intense glare, "Fuck your alliance, you and your whole family are so fucking naive for even thinking we could work together."

With that, he turned to head towards the door, too angry to even think straight.

"Bellamy!" She shouted, standing at the side of the table now.

He stopped, spinning on his heel to face her, "What?!" He sneered.

"You've made a huge mistake." She spoke, her voice low and threatening as she glared daggers at him from across the room.

"Get fucked." Bellamy flipped her off, childishly, he would admit, but he was too angry to act professional. He threw the door open, storming down the corridor as he pulled his sleek black phone out, calling Octavia to tell the driver to come and get him from the warehouse. 

The car pulled up almost ten minutes later, Bellamy stormed down towards the car, yanking the door open so hard he swore it would have come off it's hinges. He sat down, shutting his eyes as he threw his head against the seat. The car beginning to drive off. 

"How did it go?" Octavia asked, twisting in her seat to face her elder brother. 

"You don't want to know, just tell me we're going back to New York?" 

Octavia nodded, "We are, thank God, there's absolutely fuck all to do out here."

Neither of them spoke for most of the drive, only remarking slightly as they entered the city limits. They were in the upper east side in a matter of minutes, Bellamy watched as pedestrians lined the streets, slowly becoming aware that the car began to speed up. 

He frowned, lifting his head off the glass as the car began to swerve and continued to accelerate, "Woah, slow the fuck down!" He demanded, reaching over to shake the driver on the shoulder, almost instantly the driver twisted in his seat, a gun, that supposedly came from thin air, in his hand, that was aimed at Bellamy. Bellamy's eyes widened as he saw a small tattoo on the driver's neck, one he hadn't noticed. An A. The same A that had been on Echo's ring. 

"What the fuck?!" Bellamy yelled, throwing his arm over Octavia as the driver quickly turned back to the road, his foot pressing down further on the accelerator. 

Octavia screamed as the driver suddenly slammed on the brakes as they collided with a car in front. The gun flying from the driver's hands as his head slammed against the wheel, blood flying from his head as he came back. The car flipped forwards, somehow managing to spin in the air and slam down onto the ground on Bellamy's side. Glass flew around the car, scratching his face up as he tried to block Octavia as best as he could from the shards. As the car came to a halt on it's side, all Bellamy could hear were Octavia's screams, some indistinguishable and some were her shouting his name. Bellamy felt his vision drifting, looking down weakly to see dark red blood blossom out of his stomach, groaning as he realised a shard of glass had lodged itself in his stomach. He tried to move himself, but he was too weak, too injured. The last thing he saw before he blacked out were people running towards the car through the shattered windshield. And then, nothing.

\---------- 2 weeks later ----------

Two weeks after the accident, Bellamy was recovering at a good rate, the doctors had kept him in the hospital for three days before clearing him to go home. His mother had tried to get him to come back to the Blake mansion but Bellamy had refused, opting to return to his apartment, which, as it happened, was in Azgeda turf. He knew one of his surgeons had been Abby Griffin, one of those famous, stuck up doctors who always attended the functions his father held at art galleries along with her engineer husband. But Bellamy knew her more as the mother of Octavia's high school best friend, Clarke Griffin, or as he affectionately referred to her in high school, princess. One of his favourite hobbies as a teenager was to rile her up and get a reaction, which usually worked. For all her faults, and from what Bellamy remembered, she had quite a few, she was a good friend to O. 

Octavia hadn't shut up about her for two weeks, calling Bellamy on the phone and chattering away at their regulation family dinner on saturday about inviting her out to catch up on old times. Not that Bellamy had really listened, that conversation topic had quickly fizzled out as Antonio kept asking Bellamy the same questions about the Azgeda meeting as the ones he had asked when Bellamy woke up after surgery. 

"Why didn't you accept their offer?!" His father had growled, shoving his son into the wall after dinner.

"Because I won't marry off my sister to that scumbag." Bellamy snapped, pushing himself off the wall to come face to face with his father. 

Antonio grabbed Bellamy by the collar, gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white, "I don't care if we had to prostitute Octavia out to them, I needed that alliance, I didn't think you'd fuck it up this badly for me. You're worthless, figlio, get the fuck out of my sight." His father spat, releasing his son's collar and shoving him back again. After that dinner Bellamy had took off out of the house and towards his car, parked in front of the mansion. Fuming, he had drove back to his apartment, not knowing where to channel his rage. The words of his father running through his head, he rested his forehead on the steering wheel, closing his eyes as he took slow, deep breaths in any sort of attempt to calm himself down. It had been a week since he stormed out of the house, and hadn't answered any of the calls from his mother, only Octavia's. 

The only way Bellamy knew to distract himself, to make himself to feel normal, even for an hour, was to invite Murphy, Monty and Jasper around. So he did. The four of them sat on the sofas in front of the TV, drinking beers, eating crappy junk food and smoking weed so courteously supplied by Jasper. 

Bellamy sat back on the sofa, his arm thrown over the back as he took swigs from the can, he shifted uncomfortably as a small pain emerged from where the glass impaled him, "Did I tell you who Octavia wouldn't shut up about?" He asked, glancing around at his friends.

"Yep," Murphy replied, lighting a cigarette to Bellamy's dismay, "Clarke Griffin, Arkadia High's child prodigy." 

Bellamy smirked, "Remember that one time she ratted you out for smoking weed under the bleachers?" 

"How could I forget?" Jasper laughed mockingly, "Saved my life, never smoked weed again."

"Really?" Monty piped up, "Stoner." 

In response, Jasper threw a pretzel at Monty, who cried out in mock pain, before grabbing the pretzel off his stomach where it had landed and put it in his mouth. 

"Spoken to your dad at all?" Murphy asked, leaning his head back to try and see Bellamy.

"No, I don't want to either." Bellamy sighed, taking another drink, "After what he said about O, I'd be afraid of stabbing him or something, besides he doesn't even care that we almost died."

"He didn't even realise the Azgedas had one of their own spying on you." 

"Not so smart for a mafia boss." Jasper snorted, turning his attention back to the TV. 

Bellamy stayed quiet while everyone else continued to talk, he ran his hand over his face before pushing himself off the sofa, "I'm going out, stay as long as you want." Bellamy announced gruffly, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair as he headed for the apartment door.  
He took the stairs down to the bottom floor, walking out onto the busy street the cold September air of New York hit him in the face like a slap, not that he minded, it was a good kick to wake him up, despite it being 5 PM. 

He walked for a few blocks, enjoying being mixed in with the crowd, he always admired the fact you didn't know who was who in these kind of crowds. Here, nobody would know who he was, what he'd done, what he would do in the future. All kinds of horrific things. 

He came to a sudden halt as he passed a run down coffee shop named Polis a few blocks from his apartment, the run down exterior not at all fitting with the upper east side theme, on the bench outside of the shop, was none other than Clarke Griffin. She was sitting back on the bench, watching people walk by, a cigarette between her fingers and a styrofoam cup of something on the bench next to her.

She looked different to how he remembered her, in school she had this God awful hairstyle of neat plaits resting on each shoulder, now, her blonde hair was shorter, around shoulder length. Her eyes bright blue against the pale colour of her cheeks. Bellamy was unable to stop a small smirk spreading on his face as he approached her, sitting down onto the bench next to her, his head slightly inclined towards her.  
She didn't recognise him at first, taking her drink up in her free hand and shuffling up the bench, an odd expression on her face as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. 

"Scared of me, princess?"

He could see the recognition begin to register on her face as she looked towards him, "Bellamy?"

"In the flesh, thanks to your mother."

"Good to see you're alive, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Bellamy chuckled, "You were always so kind, princess."

"Stop calling me that."

"Aw, but it's our thing!"

"Will you stop? It is not our 'thing'"

"Is this how you treat an old friend after seeing me for the first time in eight years?"

"We were never friends, Blake."

"A dagger to the heart, truly." Bellamy teased, chuckling again to himself as he sat back, turning to the street. 

Clarke sighed quite audibly, taking a drag of her cigarette, exhaling the smoke into the september air. 

"I never would've taken you for a smoker." 

"I'm not," Clarke grunted, crushing the cigarette into an ash tray on her left, "It's occasional, I'm having a shit day."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Wouldn't you rather stick hot pokers in your eyes?"

"Yes, but I'm bored."

Clarke sighed, running her hand through her hair, "I was kicked off the residency program at the hospital where my mom works, my fault really, but I didn't even want to do it in the first place, on top of that my roommate and I are struggling to get the rent together for the landlord and to make everything else great my girlfriend cheated on me."

Bellamy looked at her, these were her problems? They were nothing compared to what Bellamy dealt with on a daily fucking basis. "You don't know how good you have it, Griffin." Bellamy sighed, pressing his fingers into his temples. 

Clarke swivelled in her seat to face Bellamy, her nostrils flaring slightly as she glared at him, "Excuse me?"

"I said, you don't know how good you have it."

"I heard what you said, I just don't know what you're implying."

"I'm implying that you're acting like an ungrateful brat, your problems are temporary, they can be fixed with Mommy and Daddy's money, well except your girl, but apart from that you've no damn reason to complain."

"How dare you, you hypocritical asshole!" Clarke spat, gathering her things as she began to stand up. 

She turned to him again, infuriated even more by the smug smirk etched on Bellamy's face, "And I suppose your biggest problem is whether you'll have enough money to fund the hookers and the drug addiction you rich assholes so obviously have."

Bellamy's face dropped, glaring right back at Clarke," You have no idea what I go through, someone tried fucking murder me for christ's sake!" He stopped himself, he sure as fuck wasn't meant to say that, as far as he knew she hadn't any idea who he was really. 

"It's always a Goddamn pity party for people like you, asshole." She snapped, throwing the contents of her cup over him, dumping the empty cup down in front of her.

Bellamy yelped and flinched, expecting the liquid to be scalding hot coffee or something like that, but rather, it was iced tea. "You bitch." He growled, trying to rub to liquid off his shirt, to no avail obviously. Clarke smirked triumphantly, before walking off down the street, her blonde head dissapearing into the crowd. Bellamy cursed, aware of people snickering as they witnessed the scene. Bellamy stood up, pulling his jacket collar, shaking his head as he muttered obscenities about Clarke to himself as he began to walk away.


	4. Chapter 4.

Clarke shoved her way through the subway, the trains roaring towards the platform from behind. The sickly smell of too many people crammed into one space filled her nose, but Clarke shouldered through, finding a relatively clear space in the long platform, pulling her bag futher up her shoulder as she waited, fishing her phone out of her coat pocket to text her roommate, Raven.

{Clarke}

"On my way home, need anything?"

{Raven}

"A new damn boyfriend."

{Clarke}

"Very funny, Reyes, on that topic, how is ass face Collins anyways?"

{Raven} 

"Posting pics of his new slut already lol."

{Clarke}

"Men are trash, women too. But on the topic of trash men, I ran into the king of the assholes himself, Bellamy Blake."  
{Raven}

"Damn, you keep running into him like this you'll be married next, first the ER, now the streets of New York, it's meant to be, my friend."

Clarke smirked, rolling her eyes.

{Clarke}

"As if, he was an asshole in high school and he still is now. I threw my iced tea all over him."

{Raven}

"Go Griffin! What did he say to you?"

{Clarke}

"Kept calling me princess, then he told my problems were nothing compared to his when he asked me why my day was shit."

{Raven}

"Sounds like Blake. Nothing like Octavia."

{Clarke}

"Agreed, it was nice seeing her, I mean, not in the situation but y'know what I mean. Not so nice seeing her creepy ass family."

{Raven}

"Lol, you should text her and invite her over or something, we can all catch up on old times, anyways shut up and let me get on with my work."

Clarke switched her phone off, tucking it away in her pocket as the train charged past her, she checked her watch, her own train wasn't due for another ten minutes. She would have come later, but she wasn't staying on that bench with Bellamy, even if she was paid. 

She ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep sigh as she looked around the platform, her heart dropping as she saw a familiar face emerge from the crowd, looking towards the train tracks. It was Lexa. Clarke began to back up towards the back of the platform, purposefully engulfing herself in a group of commuters. 

"Please God don't let her see me." Clarke muttered to herself, moving behind a taller man in a suit yelling into his phone. She watched from behind as Lexa paced the platform, her long brown hair in it's usual half up, half down style, smoky black eye shadow messily done around her green eyes. Clarke would be lying if she said her heart didn't speed up a bit as she watched her ex-girlfriend walk around.

Clarke's luck ran out as the man in front of her stormed off in a rage, very audibly yelling down the line. Clarke's eyes widened as she realised she was in full view of Lexa, she panicked, glancing around to see if she could hide anywhere. The last thing she fucking wanted to was to have to talk with the woman who cheated on her. But it was too late, Lexa was already coming towards Clarke, deep regret present on her face as she began to call Clarke's name, "Clarke!"

Clarke stifled a groan as she looked up, her eyes instantly meeting with Lexa's green ones. Clarke kept her hands pressed onto the sides of her legs to keep them from trembling, why the hell was she so damn nervous? She had nothing to nervous about, she had nothing to apologise for.

Clarke took a very shaky breath, "Lexa." She nodded.

Lexa looked at her longingly, her eyes trailing up and down Clarke's body in a way Clarke used to love, but now made her feel uncomfortable. "Let me talk to you." She said, her voice clear, her eyes now looking at Clarke's face.

"What's there to talk about?" Clarke mumbled, clumsily brushing her hair out of her face, she caught sight of her hand shaking as she moved it past her face.

Get it together, Clarke! 

"You know what we have to talk about, Clarke."

Clarke met Lexa's eyes. Clarke didn't cry a lot. She only cried when she was truly hurt, and for the first time since they split, all she wanted to do was break down and cry, "Why - why did you hurt me, Lexa?" She whispered, her voice cracking, she wasn't sure if Lexa heard her, but she did.

"I wish I could say why, it was a mistake - "

"If you loved me, you wouldn't have done it," Clarke breathed, her eyes filling with tears as she looked into the eyes of her old lover, "Was - was I not good enough?"

Lexa's face softened, reaching out for Clarke's hand, who instantly withdrew it. She shook her head, "No, no, you don't get to do that, not after what you did."

Lexa looked down, a few tears escaping her eyes, she blinked them back quickly, but not before Clarke saw.  
"I loved you." Clarke said, trying to take calming breaths, "I put everything on the line for you, my career, my relationship with my parents, my friends...and you went and did what you did?!"

Lexa opened her mouth to speak, before Clarke held her hands up to stop her, "I'm done. I'm moving on. We could have had a life together, Lexa, but you ruined that, not me. You."

The train Clarke was due to get on pulled up into the station, the gust of wind it produced blew her hair back briefly. She thanked God for the perfect timing of the train, looking back at Lexa, who refused to look up and meet her eyes. 

"Goodbye, Lexa." Clarke spoke softly, her voice shaking as she walked past the brunette. She let tears fall from her eyes as she walked onto the train, her eyes red from crying attracted the stares of strangers on the subway, she hung onto the pole in the centre of the train car, trying to avoid anyone's eye as she reached her station. 

Clarke spent the entire evening with Raven, eating crappy chinese takeout from down the street and drinking cheap beer. Clarke let her legs rest on the sofa, letting herself sink into the leather sofa, tapping the half empty can in her hand with her nail, talking to Raven about her encounter with Lexa and Bellamy.

Her phone began to ring from the coffee table, attracting both girl's attention, Clarke reached over, picking the phone up.  
"It's my mom." She groaned, rolling her eyes at Raven.

"Answer it." She urged, turning the TV volume down. 

Clarke grimaced, looking back to her phone and swiping to answer, "Mom?"

"Clarke? I've been trying to reach you for days, your father and I are worried."

Clarke paused, her mother was unbelievable sometimes, "What do you want, mom?"

"I want you to come and stay at our apartment for a few days, I'm sorry I kicked you off the program but I think we could work something out, pull a few strings on the medical board and we could have you back - "

"No, mom, do you hear yourself? You know I didn't want to go to medical school, I'm not you! I never will be! Stop pretending I'm something I'm not." With that, she hung up, throwing her phone onto the sofa, flopping down beside it with a groan.

"Your mom has been calling the apartment for days, even when you're out."

"Did you answer?"

"Once, but I told her you didn't want to speak to her."

"Good, because I don't, I shouldn't have even answered that call."

"You would have had to talk to her at one point, she's your mom, or even at least talking to your dad."

"Hmph." Clarke remarked, taking another drink for the can, her head spinning slightly.

The next day Clarke woke up with a slight hangover, she was half dressed and half lying out of her bed as she recalled the night before, all that they did was drink beer, but then Clarke remembered just how many she actually had. She pushed her hair out of her face, sitting up as she groaned. She threw her legs over the bed, the wooden floor cold on her feet. She stood up, heading to the shower as she grabbed a towel from the chair in her room. She showered quickly, the water running onto her face waking her up. She stepped out, wrapping herself in the towel as she wiped the steam off the mirror.

She stared at her reflection for a few minutes, her mascara from last night smudged around her eyes from the water. She bent down, turning the tap on as she threw the water up onto her face, rubbing the makeup off. She walked back to her room, quickly towel drying her hair and throwing on some clothes before heading towards the kitchen. Her eyes landed on the kitchen island, a yellow post-it in the middle. She walked over, peeling it off the surface and reading the writing;

Gone to work, be back at 5, get a job b xx

Clarke put the note back on the counter, grabbing an apple from the bowl, she sat down on the kitchen table, finding her phone there. She turned it on, seeing a row of messages from an unknown number. She frowned, typing in the passcode as she opened her messages.  
She realises the unknown number was Octavia, she skimmed through the messages.

{Octavia}

"Hey Clarke, I've been really wanting to meet up with you ever since we met at the hospital, we were thinking of maybe inviting you and your parents to the mansion as a way to thank your mother for saving my brother, please get back to me asap."

Clarke rubbed her forehead, putting the phone down. She did want to see Octavia, but having to bring her parents with her? That's something she didn't want to do. There was a million things wrong with the idea of going to the Blake's house with her parents. The awkward conversation, the patronsing talk she was bound to have with her mother, or maybe the fact that they were a fucking mob family. She bit her lip, grabbing the phone off the counter as she began to text Octavia back, she needed to smooth things over with her mother and maybe this was the time to do it.

{Clarke}

"Sounds great. What time?"

Clarke put the phone down, resting her chin on her fist as she looked at the phone, waiting for a reply, which came a few minutes later.

{Octavia}

"Tomorrow at six? I'll send a car for you and your parents."

{Clarke}

"Send the car for them, I'll drive, I remember where your house is, see you then."

Clarke turned her phone off, tucking into her jean pocket as she took a few bites out of the apple, frowning with distaste as she threw it in the bin. She pulled on her boots, grabbing her jacket as she walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind her. She pushed the thought of tomorrow at the Blakes to the back of her mind, she needed to focus on getting a job, even just some crappy job as a barista if needs be.

She combed through the streets of the upper east side, walking into several shops and cafes looking for open places, for New York, she had no luck. She gave up on finding anywhere to work, opening her purse from her bag and searched through it, she groaned as she saw she only had $10. Then, as Clarke trudged back through the streets to her apartment she looked to her right, coming to a stop outside of Polis, the same styrofoam cup on the floor when she threw her drink at Bellamy. Her eye caught a 'Help Wanted' sign in the door, before Clarke knew what she was doing she was inside, talking to the Barista about the available spaces. Thirty minutes later, she had the job, her shift starting at 9 AM the next day and would finish at 5 PM, giving her an hour to finish work and get to Octavia's. 

The next day went like a flash, she woke up at 6 to get ready and be at work early for her first shift, she hands fumbled as she made crappy coffee and got yelled at by five different customers for messing up their extremely complicated orders. She glanced up towards the clock, it read 4:55 PM, five minutes until her shift finished, which gave her another five minutes to get home, another fifteen minutes to get changed and then forty minutes to drive there, the drive itself was around half an hour, which would mean she'd arrive early, which is better than being late. The Blakes didn't appreciate tardiness.

As soon as the clock hit 5 Clarke ripped off her apron, throwing it into the coat room at the back. She practically ran the way home, thundering up the stairs to her apartment. She pulled apart the wardrobe, desperately trying to find anything decent.

"Why the hell don't I own nice clothes?" She muttered to herself, holding up a hideous green dress she wore on a date once, she tossed it aside, tucking her hair behind her ears as she reached into the closet again. Her hands found the last dress in the closet, she yanked it out. It was a black dress, knee length and tight fitting enough that she could breathe but just barely. "This'll do." She muttered to herself, throwing her clothes off and pulling it on. She grabbed a pair of black heels, shoving them onto her feet clumsily. Clarke grabbed her makeup bag, applying light mascara to her eyelashes and lip gloss to her lips, she'd never been one for heavy makeup. She grabbed the hairbrush from the dresser, dragging it through her hair as she ran for the door, grabbing her bag, keys and phone. 

She checked the time as she got into the car, she would make good timing if she left now. She put the keys into the ignition, pulling out of her parking space. She fiddled with the radio as she drove, humming along to the songs playing as she drove. She was surprised she remembered the route as well as she could, she turned a corner down a private road, mansions with acres of land on either side. She pulled into the driveway at the house at the end of the road, a sleek black car was already parked outside, the car that her parents had been escorted in she assumed. She parked the car behind the other, stepping out, grabbing her bag with her. 

She walked up towards the house, the cold air of the night hitting her bare arms as she looked up at the grand house before her, as she reached the steps, the front door opened and Octavia flew out, running towards Clarke. As soon as Clarke reached the top steps Octavia threw her arms around her old friend, hugging her tightly.

"It's so good to see you!" Exclaimed Octavia, stepping back to beam at Clarke, "You look so nice, especially without those scrubs." She laughed, leading Clarke by the hand towards the house. 

"It's been so long since I've been here." Said Clarke, looking up at the grand entrance of the house. 

"I know, how old were we? 16?"

"I think so."

Octavia took Clarke's bag off her arm, placing it on an ottoman by one of the doors to the right, "Come on, they're about to serve dinner."  
As the two women walked into the dining room, four people sat around the table, Antonio at the head of the table with Aurora by his side. 

Jake sat at the opposite head of the table and Abby sat a few a seat down from him, which was strange, Clarke thought to herself.  
"Sorry about Bellamy, he won't be joining us tonight." Octavia sighed, taking a seat next to her mother, who sipped wine. Clarke sat down opposite Octavia, aware that her mother and father were staring at her from where they sat. 

"It's good to have you here, Clarke." Antonio said, holding his wine glass out to the butler behind him, who poured some sort of expensive wine into his glass. 

"Well, it's good to be here." Clarke replied, an awkward smile on her face as one of the other butlers leant over her, pouring her drink.  
"You have a wonderful home, Antonio." Abby said from where she sat, looking around at the dining room, "Lot's of beautiful art."

"Thank you, Abigail, you're too kind." Antonio responded, tilting his head back, he looked to Aurora, who busied herself unfolding and refolding the napkin, "Aurora, dear, why don't you tell our guests about the art pieces while I talk to Jake in the foyer about some business." He gestured to the foyer, looking to Jake, "Shall we?"

The two men stood, walking out of the dining room and out of sight. Everyone apart from Clarke seemed unphased as the two went out. Clarke had thought they had only been there tonight for the Blakes to thank her mother for saving Bellamy during surgery, but, if that were the case, Bellamy would be here, and her father wouldn't dissapear off with a mafia boss to discuss 'business'. They were gone for a while, not returning until after dinner had been served, everyone made small talk, pretending as thought Antonio and Jake had never left.

As dinner almost finished, Clarke lay her fork down, excusing herself to the bathroom, insisting to Octavia that she knew where it was. She walked out of the dining hall, glancing behind her to catch her mother's eye, who narrowed her gaze at Clarke. As Clarke walked to the downstairs bathroom, she stopped, frowning as she heard grunts coming from a distance. She stood still, trying to keep her breathing quiet as she listened out for the sound, she heard the grunts again, this time accompanied by yells and screams, too low sounding to be a woman.

She turned away from the bathroom, following the sounds as quietly and undetected as possible towards a door at the end of a short corridor, she hovered outside, pressing her ear to the door, it sounded like someone was being beat up, but she wasn't sure, before she could stop herself her hand had wrapped around the door handle. She pulled it open slowly, the door creaking a little. She peered down, her eyes landing on a staircase, leading to a dimly lit basement. She slowly crept down the stairs, inhaling sharply as she saw a man in a chair, blood covering his face, he moaned as his head rolled around. On his side stood a man dressed entirely in black, holding a gun in his left hand. But that wasn't what horrified her, the man, standing in front of the one in the chair, breathing heavily, spun around to face Clarke. His eyes were wide and wild beneath curly strands of dark hair hanging in front of his eyes, blood had splattered on his shirt, his chest heaved as he uncurled his fists. 

Clarke stumbled back, unable to tear her eyes away from the man, "Bellamy?"

He stared her straight in the eyes, swallowing as he looked from Clarke and back to the man, who groaned loudly into his gag.  
Bellamy turned to face her fully, holding his hands up as he came towards her slowly, "Clarke, what are you doing down here?" He breathed, his voice deep and threatening. 

Clarke fumbled for an answer, her mouth suddenly dry as she flinched back as Bellamy came closer, "I - I'm sorry, I shouldn't have c - come down here.." She stuttered, tearing her eyes away from the man. 

"No, you shouldn't have." Bellamy snapped, placing himself in Clarke's view of the man, his intense glare directed at her.  
Clarke gulped as discreetly as she could to hide her nerves, which didn't work, she opened her mouth, trying to speak but unable to choke out any words. 

"Does Octavia know you're doing this?" She asked quietly, jerking her eyes up to meet Bellamy's for a moment.

"No." He said firmly, grabbing Clarke's arm, the touch of his hand sent chills down her spine, the same hand he had been using to beat the crap out of the man in front of them. 

"You can't tell her, Clarke, promise me you won't tell her."

Clarke said nothing for a moment, managing to get a glimpse of the man, "Are you going to kill him?" She whispered.

"What do you think, Griffin?" Bellamy snapped, he stopped himself, looking up and taking a few deep breaths before looking back at Clarke, "Just - just promise me you won't tell Octavia, or anyone, what you saw here ... never happened." 

Clarke frowned, how could she just forget what she saw, he was about to murder someone. This was fucking mafia stuff, the stuff she swore to herself she wouldn't get involved with, but Bellamy was giving her a chance to walk away from this and her gut told her to do it, but her conscience told her to go to the police, or anyone, she needed to do what was right. But as she looked up at Bellamy, she saw the desperation in his eyes to conserve his sister's innocence. She finally nodded, shutting her eyes momentarily and taking one long breath to calm her nerves. 

"Just go, Clarke, please just pretend it never happened, and remember, do not tell anyone, especially Octavia." He finally released Clarke's arm, his grip making red marks on her arm where he held her. She rubbed her arm as she slipped out from between Bellamy and the wall, practically falling up the stairs. 

Clarke had meant to head back to the dining room, but instead her feet took her towards the door, grabbing her bag from the ottoman she burst out of the double doors, practically running down the stairs towards her car, she threw the door open and got in, her hands shaking as she clumsily jammed her keys into the ignition, backing out of the drive. For the whole drive home her hands shook on the wheel, her head swimming with the knowledge she could have tried to stop Bellamy, she could have saved that man, but she didn't.

She pulled up into the apartment parking lot, as she stopped the car, she slumped against the seat, shutting her eyes as she tried to calm down, but before she could begin to think about getting out, a rush of nausea grew in her stomach, rapidly rising within her, she fumbled with the car handle, falling out of the car as soon as it opened. She fell onto her hands and knees, coughing and spluttering as she threw up onto the tarmac on the ground. Clarke wiped the sweat from her forehead, sitting back against the car. 

She let the cool air of the night surround her, trying to control her breathing. She flinched as her phone began to ring in her bag, she groaned as she reached in, taking out her phone and answering it without even checking who it was.

"Hmph?"

"Clarke, where are you? Your car is gone!" It was her mother's voice, the sound of talk was audible in the background. 

"Oh, I - uh - went home, I didn't feel well." Which wasn't entirely untrue.

"Honestly, Clarke, you could have said something instead of just taking off, I wanted to talk!"

"Look, I'm sorry, just tell Octavia I'll text her later, and tell the Blakes I'm sorry for taking off and thanks for the dinner." She hung up quickly before her mother could say anything, rubbing her hand over her face.

Clarke pulled herself up, shutting the car door behind her. Her feet ached as she began to walk, she stopped against the building, leaning on the wall as she pulled her shoes off, holding onto them by the strap, walking towards the apartment door in her barefeet. She trudged up to the apartment, throwing her shoes down by the door. Clarke stumbled towards her room, glancing into Raven's room as she walked by, she wasn't home yet. She entered her own room, collapsing onto the bed.

Clarke shut her eyes, but as soon as she did all she could see was the man in the chair, and Bellamy staring at her with a maniacal look in his eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, as if that would make the image go away. 

What did she expect of them? They were a mob family, this is what they did. She just supposed that she would never have to see it. She turned in the bed, her hair falling over her face as she curled up, still in her dress.

She was far too into it now, and on top of that, she had suspicions that her father was in business with the Blakes, doing something illegal no doubt. Clarke sighed to herself, realising the mess she was in, and what she would have to do to get out of it.


	5. Chapter 5.

It had been one week since the Griffins had come over to the Blake Mansion for dinner, Antonio had taken advantage of their company to organise a deal with Jake Griffin. As Bellamy understood, Antonio had plans to build a skyscraper in place of an office building in the Upper West Side, and Jake Griffin was the engineer that his father needed, he had no problems accepting his father's blood money to approve the plans of the architect his father hired. Antonio had sat in the living room after the dinner, drinking his prized gin as he drank to 'Blake Towers', telling Bellamy of his plans, before turning to him asking how the interrogation went. Bellamy had shifted uncomfortably in his chair, remembering how Clarke's face looked when she saw him there, standing in front of another one of the Azgeda rats they had found within their ranks.

Bellamy ran his hand through his hair, shrugging, "He wouldn't say a lot." His father nodded slowly, looking towards the fire, taking another drink, "Not good enough, figlio, I needed to know just how many Azgeda rats we have working for us."

Bellamy's expression changed, visibly pissed off as he glared at his father, "You really expected him to just give up information?"

"No," His father spoke calmly, "I expected you to do what I taught you, you didn't work hard enough."

"Then why don't you do it?!" Bellamy snapped, slamming his hands down on either side of the chair he sat in. Antonio didn't react for a moment, before turning his head to face Bellamy, his dark brown eyes storming over, "Disrespecting your padre, figlio?"

Bellamy stood up, standing over his father, his chest heaving as he glared at him, "Do not treat me like I'm a child, I make my own decisions and I do things my way." He breathed, his voice low and threatening. Antonio got up quickly, standing face to face with his son, "You're a disgrace, treating your family like this?" He spoke quietly, holding Bellamy's hard stare, "Remember your place in this family, figlio, you aren't at the top yet."

Bellamy turned the corners of his mouth up, refusing to break eye contact, "Yet. I will be one day, padre, and I'll take this family to the top, in ways that you never will." 

With that, Bellamy had backed off, heading towards the front door. He pushed open the double doors, descending down the steps towards his car. As he drove away from the house, he felt a sense of triumph, knowing that he would take his father down one day. He was the monster, not Bellamy, he was the one who molded Bellamy into the thug that he was, and he knew that wasn't his own fault. It had been a week since then, and Bellamy had spent the most part of it partying, drinking, doing drugs and sleeping with whatever girls he could get. He didn't particularly enjoy this, but Bellamy had grown to master the art of distracting himself, and partying was a very good way of doing it. 

He sat on the sofa of his apartment suffering from a deadly hangover, he was sure he had taken enough aspirin to take down a fucking elephant. Bellamy had made sure he had turned most of the lights off in the apartment, and the TV wasn't to be turned on under any circumstances. He had long come down from his high last night, the bongs lay discarded on the floor. He'd pick them up later.  
He groaned, pushing himself off of the sofa, he trudged towards the kitchen, rubbing his temples with his fingers. He pulled the cabinet door open, taking a glass out, he filled it, drinking it all in one go. He slammed the glass down too hard, accidentally smashing it.

"Fuck." He muttered, one of the shards cutting his hand, he held his right hand with the other, cursing as he turned the tap on, holding it under the tap. He sighed, watching the blood run off his hand and down the drain, as he looked at his own blood on his hand, all he could think of was the blood of the spy on his hand from a week earlier, and then all he could see was the horror on Clarke's face as she saw him, her blue eyes widening in terror.

In all the years he'd known her, he'd never seen her look at him like that, like he was a monster. He quickly withdrew his hand from the tap, turning it off. He grumbled to himself, marching to his bedroom and throwing on the cleanest clothes he could find. He had to talk to Clarke, he needed to explain what happened and to make sure she hadn't told. He was about to head out of the door before realising he hadn't a clue where Clarke lived, he grabbed his phone, texting Octavia to ask where Clarke's apartment was. God knows how she knew seeing as she'd never been there but she did, texting Bellamy the address. 

He got into his car, which he really didn't need as she was only a few blocks away, and drove to her apartment building. It was nice enough, brick exterior, large windows and a parking lot on the side. He pulled into a parking space, stepping out of the car. He walked towards the door, seeing a list of names next to apartment numbers by the stairs just inside the door. He scanned the list seeing the names Reyes/Griffin in apartment 15. He began to walk up the stairs, finding Apartment 15 on floor 3. It was right at the end by the window, he headed towards it, rubbing the back of his neck as he groaned.

He approached the door, his hand hovering in front of the doorbell, he swallowed before pressing it. It was about a minute before someone actually answered the door, to his relief it was Clarke. Her hair was piled into a low ponytail, and it looked like she was in her work uniform by the nametag on her black polo. 

Her eyes widened as she saw him, her grip on the door tightening as she saw him.

"Hello, Bellamy." She mumbled, looking anywhere but at him.

He leant against the door frame, running his hand through his hair as he searched for what to say, "Clarke, I came to talk to you about last week."

She said nothing, simply stepped back, opening the door. She walked towards the sofa, sitting down awkwardly as she looked at the floor. Bellamy followed, shutting the door behind him. The apartment was nice enough, to his left was a small kitchen with a kitchen island next to a wooden table. He sat down next to Clarke, leaving enough space between them so he didn't seem intrusive. 

"Look, I just wanted to apologise for what you saw..."

Clarke said nothing for a moment, "I didn't tell anyone."

Bellamy looked up, surprised, "Thank you."

 

Clarke looked away, sighing, "I know you're a mob family, or whatever you are, you aren't normal."

Bellamy pressed his lips together, nodding slightly, "I'm not normal, I never will be." 

Clarke didn't answer, only leaning back into the sofa, inclining her head to look at Bellamy, a solem look on his face, "What were you doing?"

Bellamy twisted to look at Clarke, she almost looked dissapointed, he shut his eyes for a moment, before opening his mouth to speak, "You don't need to know."

Clarke held his stare for a moment that felt like forever, "Okay." She said simply. It was obvious how uncomfortable she was in her voice, her whole body seemed tense as she sat beside him. He let his head drop, putting his head in his hands as realised Clarke was terrified of him. He couldn't exactly blame her, she had witnessed him about to beat a man to death with his bare fists. He let out a long sigh, running his hands down his face as he looked up. 

"You're scared of me." He stated.

Clarke's head jerked up, frowning, "What?"

"You're scared of me because of what I did," Bellamy persisted, "It's okay, I'd be scared of me too."

Clarke leaned forward to match Bellamy's position, "I'm not scared." She lied, trying her best to face him, "You didn't choose this life, I know that."

Bellamy stayed quiet, now for the first time noticing what Clarke was really like, sure, she was stuck up and snobbish and used to be a stereotypical rich girl at one point in her life, but even after seeing him the way he was, she was being kind to him. Because that was the type of person she was, Bellamy realised, a person who forgives. 

"It took me a long time to realise who you are, who your family is." She continued in a regretful tone, "But we've all done bad things, Bellamy - "  
"Nothing like I've done." He murmured. 

"Yes, but none of us is innocent." She insisted, gaining enough courage to look him in the eye, Clarke kicked herself internally as her heart sped up a little as he met her eye, for the first time in her life, their eye contact wasn't out of spite or hatred as it usually was, it was almost like they were friends for a split second. 

"You don't know who I am, Clarke." He sighed, tearing his gaze away from her, standing up to walk to the window in the sitting room, looking out at the city below. 

"I don't need to." She said bluntly, crossing her arms as she joined him by the window. 

Bellamy supressed a sigh, glancing at the blonde out of the corner of his eye, "I'm a monster, Clarke, you have to see that, after what I did in the basement. I've done a lot worse than that, things you wouldn't believe." He spoke softly. 

Clarke put her hand on his arm, she was surprised by how tense he was, but a few seconds after she put her hand on his arm, his muscles relaxed, "If you want forgiveness, you're forgiven." 

"Don't say that - "

"I am, I don't need to know what you've done, Bellamy."

Bellamy shook his head, pulling away from Clarke's grasp, "You're overlooking everything, Clarke, and you don't even know what everything is." 

Clarke faltered, not knowing what else to say.

"This is what I was raised to be like, to not trust anyone who isn't family. That this world is kill or be killed," He looked down, the tiniest out of character smirk on his face, "I don't even know why I'm telling you this - "

Clarke paused, before sighing and sitting down.

"I should go." Bellamy muttered, heading towards the door, placing his hand on the handle before twisting around to look at Clarke once more, "I'm sorry." He expressed, "I came to apologise and didn't even say sorry, so I'm sorry you became involved in this, I'll stay out of your life as best as I can."

Clarke nodded, meeting his eye once more, they stayed like that for a few moments, before Bellamy cleared his throat and left the apartment, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. 

Clarke flopped onto the sofa as soon as he left, shutting her eyes. The apartment was terribly quiet, the only noise was the sound of the rain against the window that was beginning to fall. She thought over the encounter, Bellamy Blake, son of a mob boss, apologising to her. She smiled to herself slightly, before supressing it quickly even though nobody was there. 

She couldn't just excuse him for what she'd seen him do, and she believed him when he said he'd done a lot worse, but for what it was worth, he didn't seem all bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg this chapter is actual trash but idc because I was listening to really emotional songs and needed to get some soft bellarke stuff out there, so enjoy this little sliver of niceness because they're gonna go back to being assholes to each other soon, also if you didn't notice I threw in a couple of lines from the show, by a couple I mean two, maya's final line and the forgiveness shiat that Clarke says to bellamy in season 1. Anyways I go back to school tomorrow and I start my a levels so I might not update every single day but I'll try to do it as often as I can :))) xxx


	6. Chapter 6.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OMG I UPDATED WHAT A MIRACLE IKR I forgot about this fic and then some lovely soul commented on it asking me to continue so I did, I've been super busy with a levels and I hope I can keep updating this as I enjoyed writing it, this chapter is a bit dead but ive got some very bellarke-y things planned for the future <3

6 Months Later...

Early spring came crashing into New York, much to Clarke's delight. The trees in central park were now regrowing the leaves they had lost in the winter, as if they were slowly but surely reviving themselves. The bitterness of winter had seeped out of existence, now replaced with the crisp, clean air of spring that whipped around Clarke as she made her way to Polis, her phone in her hand.   
She pushed the door open, stepping inside, slipping her phone inside of her pocket as she greeted her boss, Niylah.  
"Morning." She smiled, shrugging off the light jacket she wore.

Niylah leant forward on the counter, returning the smile enthusiastically, "You're looking happy." She noted, "Something good happen?"

Clarke pondered for a moment, "Nope, I just - feel way more optimistic than usual." She crossed towards the counter, taking the black apron from Niylah's outstretched hand. 

"Either way," She turned to meet Clarke's eye, "It's nice to see you like this." 

Clarke finished tying the apron, letting the smile rest on her face, "And it's nice to feel like this."

Niylah let her gaze linger on Clarke for a few more moments, before pushing herself off the counter, "I'll open up the shop, then do some filing and 'work'" She grinned, already walking towards the door to flip the sign to open. 

Clarke nodded, already expecting their usual customers, she busied herself pouring coffee beans into the machine, seeing Niylah pass by her from the corner of her eye.   
A few hours into her shift, the door opened again, two figures stepping inside. Clarke didn't look up as they entered, not thinking anything of it. She turned to grab something from behind, her arm accidentally knocking a mug off of the counter, shattering it. She cursed, stooping down to gather the shards into her hand, not realising the two figures were now in front of the counter. She held the pieces in her hand as she stood up, almost jumping slightly as her eyes landed on two tall men, both wearing polished black suits, their eyes covered with black sunglasses. 

She looked away slowly as she dragged the bin closer to herself, dropping the pieces in, before looking back, "Can I help?"

One of the men spoke, "Miss Griffin, if it won't be too much trouble, you should really come with us."

Clarke raised an eyebrow, "Who are you?" She gripped the edge of the counter with both hands.

"We've been hired to escort you and your mother out of the city," He said in a calm tone, "Now we really must be leaving."

Clarke frowned, "Hired by my mother? What the hell for?"

"We can't say right now."

"I can't just leave, I have work."

"Your manager will be informed." With that one of the men moved swiftly around the counter with an alarming speed, he took Clarke by the shoulders and practically lifted her off the ground as he moved her along. She attempted to protest, but before she could say anything she was being hurried into a sleek black car parked outside the cafe, out of place among the various scrappy cars lining the sidewalk.   
The door closed quickly behind her, she whacked on the window, demanding her bag be brought out to her. Clarke grumbled and continued to yell, flinching as a hand came to rest on her shoulder, she whipped around to face her mother.

“Clarke.” Her mother sounded solemn, she looked like she hadn't slept in weeks.

Clarke frowned, looking at her mother, she didn't pull away from her hand. “Mom, what the fuck is going on?!” 

“Language, Clarke.”

“Oh, would you just tell me for God's sake! I was minding my own business at my job and practically carted out and nobody is telling me why!”

Abby shifted uncomfortably in her seat, taking her hand away from Clarke's shoulder and tapping the driver's shoulder, he began to drive. She turned back to her daughter.

“Listen, all we're doing is getting out of town for a few days...it's nothing to worry abo-”

“Cut the shit, mom, tell me exactly why we're leaving!”

Abby sighed, “I'm going to assume you remember the dinner at the Blake's,” Abby shot Clarke a look, “The one you so rudely walked out of, anyways, your father struck up a deal with Antonio, helping him with the contruction of a new collection of office blocks.” Abby took another breath, “As far as I knew everything was fine, he promised we weren't getting into anything risky, I should have known though, everything with the God awful family is risky...” 

Clarke stared at her mother as she continued speaking, the streets of New York whizzing past them as they drove.

“Your father was on the site of the buildings, a recently demolished plot of land in the Upper East Side, and some asshole tried to fucking shoot at him!” Abby cursed, extremely out of character for her. Clarke's mind raced, someone tried to kill her father? Why would anyone do that?  
“Antonio told me it was supposedly a hitman belonging to another 'rival' family of the Blakes, the Azgedas, apparently they've been at each other's throats for years and we were building in their land, I'd never even heard of them until then, of course I knew who the Blakes were, it was why I was so hesitant for supporting your father in his deal with Antonio, but I didn't anticipate this! Antonio promised that until they deal with them they won't lay off, and that we aren't safe here, we can't go to the police, we can't!” Abby broke down into tears, her face in her hands.

Clarke stared at her mother, not knowing what to do or say. She couldn't get her head around it, someone had tried to kill her father, and now she wasn't safe in her own city. She looked down, realising this is what Bellamy had meant when he talked to her in her apartment, she sat back in her seat, a strange air in the car, distancing her from her mother.   
They sat in silence for a while as they drove out of the city, “Where's Dad?” Clarke said finally.

Abby wiped her eyes with a tissue from her pocket, “He's with Antonio, they'll meet us tonight where we're going.”

“And that is?”

“New Hampshire.”

“What?!” 

“I know, I know, it's incovenient, but it's far away enough so that we'll be safe, which is the most important thing.”

“Mom, I have a life, I have an apartment that needs rent, a job that I need to go to, I can't just uproot and disappear for God knows how long and then return and pick up where I left off!”

“YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT?!” Abby snapped, yelling at her daughter, her eyes wild, “You think I want this? For our whole family to be in danger because of the Blakes..” She let out a strange, shrill laugh, “And to think we're accepting their help, I suppose they feel indebted to us for fucking our lives up like this.”

Clarke shook her head, “They're the ones sending us out here?”

“We're staying at a holiday home they have, supposedly one the Azgeda's don't know about, Oh God I hope they don't know.”

The rest of the journey to New Hampshire was completed in silence, the only sound was the car bombing along the road outside, passing cars and buildings, fields and trees in split seconds. Clarke shut her eyes, trying to grasp hold of the situation, not knowing where to focus her mind, what would she tell Raven? She didn't even have her phone, what was she going to do about money? Her clothes? She wondered if she would be able to go back for her things, or even send someone in to get them, she didn't even have her car.

The car turned down a country lane after what felt like hours, it seemed isolated and leading to nowhere until they made a sharp turn up a long driveway, cypress trees that stretched up swayed lazily in the chilled spring breeze, her eyes followed forward to the grand mansion that lay ahead. The car came to a halt outside the mansion, and within seconds a tall, suited man opened the door for her, helping her out. Clarke gave a small thank you, before turning to the mansion, the first thing her eyes saw was Bellamy, standing on the steps.

He had a solemn look on his face, his gaze caught Clarke's for a moment, before he made his way down the steps towards her, who had now been joined by her mother. He gave them a nod, “I'm so sorry about this, Mrs Griffin.” He looked to Abby, “If any of this could have been avoided, I can assure you we would have done everything in our power to do that.” Abby nodded, not looking at him in the eye. Clarke felt a surge of anger rise from her chest as she turned to look at Bellamy, it wasn't so much she was angry at him, but at his father, but who else would she direct it at.

“Must be nice.” She spat, her eyes baring into Bellamy's.

He frowned, “What?”

“To have someone else's family almost murdered instead of your own, covering your own asses, huh?”

Bellamy looked at her incredulously.

“Clarke.” Abby hissed, taking her daughter by the arm, she looked to Bellamy, “I'm sorry about her, she's just confused and shaken up.” She steered her towards the front door, the guards opened it for them, Clarke turned her head, catching sight of Bellamy watching them from the car as they went in.

She pulled her arm away from Abby as soon as they got in, “Don't make excuses for me and don't treat me like a child.”

Abby sighed, “You're a guest here, Clarke, Bellamy offered to stay out here as another form of protection, he's doing us a favour.”

Clarke snorted, “Or he's out here because he knows we're covered here, more protection for him.”

Abby glared at her, “Behave, please, we don't know how long we'll be here.” She looked up at the mansion surrounding them, “We'll send some guards back to the city to get our things soon, and I expect your father will join us tonight.” 

Clarke made a noise of agreement, turning towards the door as it opened, Bellamy walked in.

Abby looked to Clarke again, shooting her a patronising, maternal look before walking up the stairs.

Bellamy stood by the door for a moment, “Why the attitude, Princess?”

“Don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Just don't.”

Bellamy sighed, walking over to her, “I know this is hard, and it's scaring you.” He kept his eyes on her, speaking in a calm tone, “I've been in this situation before, trust me, I can keep you and your family safe, it's why I offered to be here...but you might be here a while before we clear this situation up,” His smirk appeared again, “So we may as well start being friends.”

Clarke blinked, “I appreciate you're trying to help us, really, I do.” She tilted her chin up, trying to appear assertive, “But I don't need you treating me like a kid, and messing around with jokes, I promise you I am not and will not be in the mood for them.”

She turned away from him, stalking towards the steps, her footsteps ringing out in the grand expanse of the foyer.

“And don't call me Princess.”


	7. Chapter 7.

A week had passed since the Griffins had arrived at the country house in New Hampshire, Bellamy had offered to stay at the house to keep an eye on them, seeing as their trust in their men had recently been tarnished. Antonio had pulled him aside before he left the family mansion in New York, asking him to keep quiet about the situation.

"Figlio, they must not know how severe this is, we need them for those building plans, the money we could generate once completed would set us higher than the Azgedas."  
Bellamy had dragged his eyes away, "They already know what you're doing with Jake."

Antonio had gripped Bellamy's collar, his eyes fierce, "All they know is he is the chief engineer of this project, they don't need to know the rest, they must be kept safe or else Jake won't co-operate, and you know what I'd have to do to him if he didn't, and he's the only one who can do this for us and won't rat us out to the police, not after what he owes us." Antonio released Bellamy, shoving him back, "Now go. I don't want to hear from you until his wife and daughter make it to the mansion alive." 

Bellamy had shot daggers at his father, brushing down his shirt before turning and walking out of the mansion, he had reached the car before hearing his sister yell his name. 

Octavia had run down the steps, her face confused, "What the hell is going on? Why is Clarke going to the mansion?"

Bellamy kept his hand on the handle, "It's complicated, O."

"Is it? Or are you hiding something?"

Bellamy looked at his sister, her eyes piercing his, "They're in danger, because of dad, the Azgedas want them dead because if they are, it ruins everything dad has planned, and you know after that meeting we are on even worse terms."

"You didn't even tell me what happened at that meeting." Octavia grumbled.

"Because you don't need to know."

"So, the Azgedas are trying to kill Clarke and her parents? She will be okay, right?"

"I don't know, they haven't tried to harm her or her mother yet, only her father but if anything would happen to them, Jake won't co-operate, he made that clear when he began working with us."  
"Promise me you'll look after her."

Bellamy looked at his sister, taking his hand away from the door. He pulled her into a hug, resting his chin on the top of her head, "I will, I promise." He let go of her, "In a few days if nothing has happened, you can join us at the mansion, I doubt Clarke will want to spend all her time with me." He joked, opening the car door and stepping inside. Octavia closed it for him, giving him a wan smile. She backed away from the car as Bellamy reversed, turning and driving down the driveway, catching sight of Octavia in the wing mirror before turning out onto the road.

 

In the week that followed he rarely saw Clarke, she emerged from her room only to walk along the grounds of the mansion, he noticed she particularly liked the large pond at the bottom of the great expanse of the garden, he made sure to post extra guards down there since she usually spent an hour down there. On the day Octavia was due to arrive, Bellamy stood on the patio where he had learnt to fire a gun for the first time sixteen years ago, he folded his arms, catching sight of Clarke by the pond. 

He walked forward slightly, she stood with her back facing him, her hair glinting gold in the spring sunlight, she had wrapped her coat tightly around herself as she looked down, the water rippling softly. As if she knew he was looking, she turned. Despite the distance, he could see she was looking straight at him, she stood still for a moment, before turning and walking towards the patio. 

She joined Bellamy at the patio, standing beside him, "I know the extra guards was you." She said, her voice clear, "Thank you."

Bellamy glanced at her momentarily before looking back out, "Just making sure you're safe."  
"Thought I was safe here?"

"You are, but, you can never be too careful."

She sighed, "Never would have thought my dad being an engineer would be dangerous." She laughed slightly.

Bellamy looked down, "I am sorry you've been dragged into this, it's complicated business, but you'll be fine."

"When can I go back to New York?"

"Clarke-"

"When?"

"I don't know, but if you're thinking about your roommate, she can't know what's going on, you have to understand that or you could put her in danger too."

Clarke didn't reply.

"If you want I can send in more men to get your things, but Clarke," He turned to look at her, "You have to swear you won't go back unless I'm with you, or someone else who can protect you, and that you won't tell anyone else what is going on here."

She paused, her blue eyes locking onto his brown ones, "Okay." She nodded slowly, "I swear."

He looked at her, "We have no idea how long it'll be until we can get the Azgedas off your back, so, I was thinking it wouldn't hurt if you learnt how to defend yourself."  
Clarke frowned, "What? You mean like how to punch someone?"

Bellamy shook his head, "I had something else in mind. Wait here."

He turned and walked back into the house, heading towards the basement. Inside the basement was a large safe, he knelt down, typing in the combination, the door opened slowly and Bellamy reached inside, taking out a beretta, he held it in his hand for a moment, before shutting his eyes. The gun was the same gun he had fired when he was ten, and the same gun he used to take his first human life. The memories came flooding in, before he opening his eyes, he tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans and shut the safe, going back up the stairs.

He joined Clarke on the patio, who was sitting on a bench, she looked over as Bellamy came over, pulling the gun from the waistband. She flinched at the sight of it, "Don't worry, Princess, I'm not going to shoot you." He smirked slightly, gesturing for her to follow him.

She followed him down the steps of the patio to a pathway down the side of the house, intricate statues lining it. Bellamy walked off the path, standing in the grass, the statues and the path a good distance away, Clarke beside him.

"I'm gonna guess you've never used a gun?" 

She shook her head.

"I'll show you." He reached over, taking her hand and placing the gun in it, he felt her tense at his touch, his eyes met hers, and lingered for a moment, he shook himself slightly before letting go once the gun was in her grip. He raised her arm, "Hold it in both hands." Her other hand went up to hold the gun.

"Make sure you're steady." He moved behind her, holding her arm from behind, making sure it was still, he paused, his proximity to Clarke was enough to make him flustered, if only for a moment. The smell of her hair filled her nose and the heat from her body radiated onto his, he stayed that way for what felt like a long time, before Clarke's voice brought him back from whatever state he was in, "Like this?" She said.

He snapped out of it and looked at her form, "Yeah...yeah, that's good." He moved away. "Aim for the statue." He pointed to the furthest on the left, "When you're ready, squeeze the trigger." He glanced at her, "I find holding my breath helps when I'm firing."

"Why?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, it just does."

Clarke smiled a little, "As good a reason as any, I suppose." 

Bellamy moved to the side, out of the way of the gun, "Whenever you're ready." He spoke in a calm tone.

Clarke waited, focusing her breathing as she worked on keeping her aim steady, she already knew about how to turn the safety off the gun, but Bellamy had done that before he gave her the gun. She inhaled sharply, keeping the breath in her lungs, she forced herself to keep her eyes open. 

She squeezed the trigger, the bullet flying into the wall behind the statue, the noise from the gun ringing in her ears. She sighed, lowering the gun, within seconds Bellamy was by her side, his hand on her forearm, his touch sending jolts up her arm for whatever reason, he gently raised her arm, "Keep trying." He moved away.

"But the noise."

"You'll get used to it."

"I hope I don't have to."

Bellamy said nothing.

She raised the gun again at the same statue, remembering her form and the breathing techniques, she squeezed the trigger again, hitting the wall again. She kept firing, until she hit the head of the statue, breaking it apart, "I won't have to pay for those, will I?" She laughed, amazed she had actually done it.

Bellamy chuckled, already beside her, "No, don't worry." He looked at her, "You did good, better than me when I first fired a gun."  
Clarke smiled to herself, lowering the gun.

Bellamy took the gun back, flicking the safety on and tucking it into the waistband, he looked at her, the wide smile on her face warmed him a little, "Clarke, I-"

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT HERE?!"

Abby Griffin stormed out from the statues, her face livid as she saw Clarke, "I heard gunshots!"

Clarke looked at her mother, "It's fine, Mom, Bellamy was only teaching me how to use a gun." She gestured to the statue.

Abby looked at the headless statue, her face turning an even redder shade, "Now you're destroying their home?!" Abby grabbed her daughter's arm, "You're lucky Antonio hasn't kicked us out!"

Bellamy stepped forward, "Mrs Griffin, it was my fault, I offered to teach Clarke."

Abby looked at Bellamy, "My daughter doesn't need to know how to fire a gun! She isn't like you, this isn't her life and it's only temporary!" She began to pull Clarke away, "Come on!"

Clarke turned as Abby pulled her away, locking eyes with Bellamy, she sighed and turned her head away, disappearing around the side of the house with her mother.

Bellamy looked around, before walking to the shattered statue head on the floor, his eyes followed onto the dents on the wall where she fired. He shook his head, maybe he was wrong to have taught her to use the gun, but she's better off able to defend herself than dead.

And he didn't know how long she would be in danger like this.


	8. Chapter 8.

Abby had dragged Clarke inside the house, leaving Bellamy standing by the statues, she let go of Clarke's arm, turning and slamming the french doors. She whipped around to face her daugher, "What do you think you were doing?!" She hissed.

"Mom, it's nothing, you're freaking out over nothing!" Clarke brushed off her mother's angry tone.

"No, it's not nothing." Abby stalked over to her daughter, taking hold of her by the shoulders, "You're getting involved with something you shouldn't."

"By firing a gun?!"

"No, you're becoming friends with him."

Clarke stared at her mother, "He's not my friend, he's the brother of my old best friend, and all he's doing is making sure we're safe." Clarke pulled away from her mother's grip, "And what do you mean 'I'm getting involved'? This whole situation is yours and Dad's fault, you're the ones who decided it was a good idea to get involved with the mafia, did you not even think of all the shit that would happen when you did? The danger? The fact we could be arrested?"

"Give it a rest, Clarke, if we didn't know what the risks were we wouldn't have done it, besides if Antonio does anything that your father is uncomfortable with, he's leaving!"

"And you think they're just going to let him walk? Go to the police? Open your eyes Mom, they'll either threaten to kill us, or hold us fucking hostage as a bribing technique or they'll just simply kill him!"

"They won't."

"Even if you're right, you think the danger is gonna go away? The Azgedas associate us with the Blakes now, which means they won't leave us alone! Stop pretending everything is alright, it's not! You ruined our lives, not me, you!" The words poured from Clarke's mouth as if she were unable to stop them, the anger she had built up over the years towards her mother had reached boiling point. She clenched her fists, her eyes burning holes into her mother.

"Clarke." Abby kept frustratingly calm, "This isn't the first time they've had threats from the Azgedas. They can handle it, they've done it for years. Soon the business between your father and Antonio will be done, and the Azgedas will be dealt with, and you can go back to your life, I swear."

Clarke took several steps back, shaking her head, "You just don't get it, do you?"

She turned on her heel, storming back through the house, throwing open the doors. Clarke turned to head up the stairs, stopping as heard the front doors behind her open.

Bellamy stood in the doors, the light from outside silhouetting his figure slightly, but not enough so Clarke couldn't see his entire face. She looked at him solemnly. They held their gaze for a few moments, Clarke's grip on the stair rails tightening, before he stepped aside, breaking their eye contact. 

Octavia walked in through the doors, her eyes landing on Clarke. She was dressed entirely in black, with a leather jacket zipped up. She smiled as she made her way to the stairs, which Clarke had now descended to greet her friend. Octavia pulled her into a tight hug, "I'm sorry this is happening." She whispered into her ear.

Clarke held onto the brunette, "It's okay, we'll be fine." She caught Bellamy's eye again, who looked away almost instantly, turning to walk back through the front door, Clarke frowned slightly as he disappeared from sight. 

Octavia let go, stepping back and taking her friend's hands, "How are you holding up?"

Clarke squeezed her hands, "I've been okay, it's just difficult to get used to."

Octavia nodded, "This has been my whole life and I'm still not used to it.." She trailed off, "I'm sorry I never told you about us when we were kids, I just - I didn't want to put you in danger, or for you to think of me as a bad person, we're not, well, I'm not."

Clarke shook her head, "It's all okay, I had my suspicions anyways, I just never wanted to ask in case I was wrong."

Octavia nodded.

"How come the police never arrested your father? I never saw any big reports on your family."

"He lays low, and he's bribed pretty much the whole NYPD and federal officers, everything we do we've done in secret, although this whole situation is hardly flying under the radar, people are wondering why a massive building project has been abandoned in the middle of New York."

Clarke sighed, "I just wish it'll end."

"It will." Octavia said reassuringly, "Just give it time."

Clarke let Octavia lead her into the sitting room, where they sat on the same couch, her legs tucked up under herself, she stretched her arm out on the back of the couch, "I still haven't told Raven why I left, Bellamy told me not to."

Octavia nodded, "And you shouldn't, as horrible as it is to keep her in the dark, it's safest for her and you."

Clarke sighed, letting her mind wander as Octavia suggested they put the TV on, she kept her eyes on the screen but she didn't concentrate on what she saw. Her mind went over everything that had happened in the past week, and how she could come back from it. What took up her mind the most was the way the gun felt in her hands, and the thrill of adrenaline and excitement she got from firing it. She shook the thought from her head. The rest of the night was calm, eventually after dinner Octavia announced she was going to bed, gave Clarke a hug and went upstairs, Clarke had heard hushed talking from the foyer after Octavia had left the room.

A few minutes later Bellamy was sitting in the arm chair diagonal to Clarke, he had his eyes straight ahead on the window. She looked over at him, "Why did you offer to stay here?"

He didn't answer straight away, he simply shifted in his chair, almost refusing to look at Clarke, "You and your mother need protection."

Clarke looked towards the empty, unlit fireplace, "Your guards could have done that."

"Would you rather I leave?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant.."

The two settled into an uncomfortable silence, the clock ticked loudly and Clarke glanced up to read the time, 11:16 PM. She shifted in her seat, daring to glance at Bellamy, who sat slumped in the chair, his hair ruffled and his top button undone.

"Thank you for today." She said finally, breaking the silence.

"For what?"

"Teaching me to use the gun."

"Hopefully you won't need to use it."

The silence settled in again for a few minutes, Clarke sat up. "Who are the Azgedas?"

Bellamy sighed, running his hand over his face, "It's complicated."

"Then explain it."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'd like to know a bit about the people trying to kill me."

Bellamy smirked a little, "Fair enough."

He explained to her in enough detail that Clarke understood who they were and what they wanted, at the end she recited the key details, horrified by what she had heard, the atrocities they had committed.

"So now you know." Bellamy looked at her, his expression serious, "You know how dangerous they are, what they've done, and that whether you like it or not you're safest with us."

She felt the fear of what could happen to her hit her like a ton of bricks, she instinctively curled up in a defensive position despite the relative safety of her surroundings, Bellamy continued to talk, "So you can't go back to New York, not alone."

"But I can go back?"

"Clarke.."

"You said I could go back, Bellamy, if someone came with me."

"I don't trust anyone to keep you safe if you went."

Clarke paused, surprised with his concern for her safety. Ever since she met Bellamy she had thought his only concern lied with Octavia and her safety, which it did. It was probably due to the fact Clarke was Octavia's friend, and she meant a lot to her.

"What if you came with me?"

Bellamy looked at her, about to protest, but Clarke continued.

"Please, it'll just be a few hours, there are things I need to wrap up before I can put my mind at ease, I'll do everything you say and we'll lay low, Bellamy please."

Bellamy let out a long exasperated sigh, he ran his hands through his already messy hair, "You'll be the literal death of me Griffin, you know that?" Clarke said nothing. "I'll take you, IF we leave now, that way your mother can't stop us, and we can ideally be back midday tomorrow, I hope you can wrap your affairs up quickly because I don't care if you're in the middle of fucking your boyfriend, if I see that clock hit 11 and we're not in the car I will pick you up mid fuck and carry you out, you got that?" He stood up, the dim light of the lamp hitting the side of his body, accentuating the muscles on his arms.

Clarke eyed him briefly, "Alright." She stood up, significantly shorter than him, "And for the record, I don't have a boyfriend." She turned to walk upstairs to get her bag, leaving Bellamy looking for his car keys in the living room.

Clarke smiled to herself slightly as she crept into her room quietly to get her things, she could have sworn she'd seen a quick but genuine smile from Bellamy when she said she didn't have a boyfriend.


	9. Chapter 9.

Bellamy waited by the car in the darkness, the only light coming from the large porch in front of the house, the front door was slighty ajar. He leant against the hood of the car, he chuckled to himself. He felt as thought he were seventeen again, driving up to his high school girlfriend's house late at night, waiting for her to sneak outside undetected from her parents.

His eyes caught sight of Clarke as she emerged from the dark foyer, the warm porch lights hitting her face, gently illuminating her features, she seemed content as she shut the door quietly, smiling as she half ran towards the car.

"Thank you for this." She looked up at Bellamy, gripping her bag with her right hand, "You must be tired, do you want me to drive?"

Bellamy snorted in amusement, "Something tells me you're a horrible driver." He grinned down at her.

Clarke raised an eyebrow, unable to prevent a smirk from breaking out across her face, one that lit her eyes up, "Oh really? I might have to prove that to you then." She was already reaching out for the keys in Bellamy's hand.

"Not so fast, Princess." He held up the keys out of her reach, "It's my job to keep you safe remember?"

"You're risking it all taking me to New York."

"Maybe it'll be worth it."

Clarke kept looking at him, as if she were about to say something, she shut her mouth, a small smile resting on her face, "Let's go then." She spoke softly, walking around to the passenger seat. Bellamy got into the driver's seat, putting the keys into the ignition, the expensive car's dashboard lit up, displaying the date, time and temperature. He looked over at Clarke, who settled into the comfortable seat, "You ready?" She nodded, her eyes tired. Bellamy drove off into the night, reminding himself to text Octavia once it was morning.

The drive wasn't as hellish as Bellamy had imagined, the roads were relatively clear due to the time of night it was, and Clarke had dropped off around half an hour after they left the house. He didn't know what had gotten into him, he had thought as he drove, his tired eyes focusing on the road as best as they could, why had he agreed to this? The most confusing thing to Bellamy was why was he stealing glances at Clarke every so often, he found himself watching for several moments as she slept, noting the way she sighed slightly at times in her sleep, how she muttered the most random things, much to Bellamy's amusement. She seemed so tranquil as she slept, so normal, as if she weren't in the face of horrific danger. Bellamy had pulled his eyes away, the guilt arising within him, this was their fault, she didn't deserve this. Yet, here they were, driving back into the storm simply at Clarke's request, Bellamy shook his head, What are you doing, Bellamy?

Clarke had woken up whilst Bellamy navigated his car through the bustling streets of New York, a car horn blaring had caused her to jolt awake. "We're here already?" She yawned, leaning forward to stretch. "We were on the road for a few hours, not too long."

Clarke nodded, "You look tired." Bellamy could see her looking at him through the corner of his eye, her tranquil, sleeping self replaced by her wilful conscious state, "I'm fine, I've stayed awake longer than this." He lied, his eyes were in danger of closing any minute, "We aren't far from your apartment." 

They parked up around the back of the building, Bellamy had told her to wait in the car while he checked outside, as he climbed out of the car, Clarke caught sight of a handgun in a holster beneath his jacket. He reached into his jacket, his hand curling around the grip of the pistol as he looked around, it was quiet. He walked around to Clarke's door, meaning to open it for her. She abruptly opened the door herself, stepping out and shutting it. Bellamy was quick to shield her from any possible snipers, practically pinning her against the car door. He kept looking around, not realising how close he was to her. Clarke didn't know where to look, her hand gripped the handle behind her, eventually her eyes went up to look at his face, "Bellamy." Her voice caught in her throat, causing his name to escape her mouth a gasp, but he seemed to hear her, as he looked down to meet her eyes, just like numerous times at the mansion, he didn't look away at first. "Sorry." He said finally, moving away, "Stay close to me." He began to half run towards the back door of the building, he held it open for her as she went through.

"You don't make it half obvious, Blake." Clarke joked as she stood in the ground floor hallway. Bellamy frowned, "Make what obvious?" He then laughed nervously for a few moments, "Come on, get what you need, now we're here I may as well make a stop at my apartment." 

Bellamy followed Clarke up the stairs, reaching her apartment, they stood outside as Clarke knocked on the door, Bellamy unwillingly let go of the gun in it's holster.

The door opened, and a very tired Raven Reyes stood in the doorway, she had changed since school. She didn't notice Bellamy, her eyes widening as she saw Clarke.

Clarke held her hands up, bracing herself for the yelling to come, "Raven, I can ex-"

Raven threw her arms around Clarke, tackling her with a tight hug, "Thank God." Raven whispered, holding her friend tightly. Clarke returned the hug, glad to be home. Raven finally let go, "Where the hell were you? You just went to work and never came home, the only reason I didn't call the police was because your Mom called saying you had to go out of town but that was it!"

Clarke glanced to Bellamy, he shook his head, Clarke looked at Raven regretfully, "It's family business, that's all, Raven."

"Family business that involves Bellamy Blake?" Raven looked over at him, raising an eyebrow, "You're different to how you were in school."

Bellamy tilted his chin up slightly, "You look even more tired than you did in senior year."

Raven gave a mock laugh, before looking back to Clarke, "You know I don't judge your choice in men, but..."

"No! It's not that, it's-" Clarke hissed, but Raven held her hands up to quieten, "Chill, Griffin, why don't you both come in."

Bellamy and Clarke followed her in, he shut the door behind them, before turning to Clarke, "Quickly." He said firmly, crossing his arms. Clarke shot him a look, before turning back to Raven.

"What does he mean?"

"Listen Raven," Clarke began, "I can't stay here, not for right now, this family stuff hasn't cleared yet and I need to be out of town for a while longer, but I'm coming back, I promise."

"Wait, wait, wait, Clarke you can't just drop everything in your life and take off without saying anything to everyone, Niylah has been calling her everyday asking if you're okay...same with Lexa." Raven added quickly.

Clarke's face dropped, along with her heart, "She has?"

Bellamy shifted in place, he could see in Clarke's face and in her tone of voice she cared about whoever this Lexa was, he didn't want to say that it hurt him, it didn't, how could it? She didn't mean anything to him like that, she was his sister's friend, this was none of his business.

"She is friends with Niylah apparently, she said you'd just gone off the radar and now they're both calling, I think you should call them back."

"I can't Raven."

"You might have to," She said solemnly, "Are you sure you have to leave?"

Clarke nodded.

Raven leant in closer, her voice quiet, "Why are you with him?"

"He's helping me." Clarke replied in an equally quiet voice.

"With family business or giving you a ride from wherever you're staying, I suppose you can't tell me that either, seeing as you're being so cryptic."

Clarke shook her head, "I'm sorry. But he's helping me with the family issues, so is Octavia."

"Damn, the whole gang is invited but me?"

"Raven, when this finishes, I'll come back, everything will go back to how it was, I promise."

Raven looked down, folding her arms, "Don't make promises you can't keep."

A thick silence settled into the room, there was an unnamed tension floating in every available space within the apartment, and they were all drowning in it.

"Clarke, you should get your things." Bellamy said finally, his voice a harsh contrast against the silence.

In the time it took Clarke to get her things, Raven did nothing but shoot daggers at Bellamy, when Clarke arrived from her room, a duffel bag over her shoulder, she hugged Raven again, promising she would call, before leaving the apartment, Bellamy in tow.

"I know that was hard." He said to her as they walked down the corridor, "I'm sorry."

"Let's just go."

Their next stop was Bellamy's apartment, which was a five minute drive from Clarke's, "I want you to keep your head down when we get out." Bellamy had said as he stopped the car, "Don't look at anyone or anything, just make sure you're behind me." He got out of the car, making sure Clarke had gotten out with him, they had made their way quickly to the building.

They took the elevator up, arriving at the top floor, Bellamy unlocked the door, opening the door to a cold apartment, the design was that of modern interior design clumsily thrown together with a rickety old farmhouse table and strange pieces of art, and dozens upon dozens of books scattered throughout the apartment, Clarke loved it.

They stepped in, and Bellamy closed the door, "Make yourself at home, but we won't be here long." He called out, already walking down a small corridor to the left.

Clarke sat down on one of the couches, the old worn leather let out a little air and sank as she sat on it, despite it's condition it was a far cry more comfortable than the ones at the mansion. She gazed around at the apartment, her eyes landing on a hefty stack of books by one of the windows. She got up and walked over to them, on top of the pile was The Iliad. Clarke picked it up, flicking through it, several pages had small post-it notes emerging from the top to bookmark them, Clarke smiled to herself, she never imagined Bellamy as a history nerd. She set the book down, continuing to look around.

She saw a picture on top of a side table, of a boy of around 12 and a girl of around 8, it took her a moment before realising it was Bellamy and Octavia, she picked it up and looked at it. He had the same unruly dark hair and freckles as he did now, only in the picture he had a wide toothy grin, his skinny arm around Octavia, who bore a striking resemblance to her brother.  
"I was a lanky kid." Bellamy's voice came from behind her.

Clarke turned, still holding the picture frame, Bellamy smiled at her, nowhere near as large as the grin he had in the picture, "I was about 12 or 13 in that."

Clarke looked down at it, "I didn't even know either of you then."

Bellamy went quiet, maybe it was better if she didn't know them at all.

Clarke glanced back up at Bellamy, noticing his silence, she gently set the picture down again, "Bellamy.." She kept her eyes on him, "Is this the life you wanted for you? For Octavia."

"It wasn't my choice."

"I know," She stepped closer, "But, is it what you want?"

Bellamy stayed quiet for a few moments, "No.."

Clarke felt her breath catch in her throat.

"If I could have been anything, I'd have been a history teacher." He laughed a bit, "It's such a normal job, underpaid, demanding, sounds perfect to me. But this is the life I've got, and as long as I can keep Octavia safe and happy, then it's okay."

"But you're always in danger, don't you get tired of it?"

"Sometimes, but this has been my whole life."

Clarke didn't know what to say.

"Let me ask you something." Bellamy said, moving towards her. "I've known you a long time, I know your talents, what you're good at, but you run away from it, you push people away, I want to know why?" He asked, looking down at her, they were so close his hand brushed against hers briefly.

Clarke pondered for a moment, "Because it's easier, it's easier to have nobody close to me so I can't get hurt, and I run from what I'm good at because everybody depends on me, and it gets too much, it's why I couldn't finish my residency."

Bellamy kept looking at her, his eyes on hers, and nowhere else. It was as though he was falling into the depths of her ocean blue eyes and he couldn't escape, he couldn't quite grasp the emotions he was feeling, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to, he didn't know what to say to her, the closeness of their bodies was almost too distracting.

"Would you push me away?" He said finally, his voice so quietly on Clarke could have heard him.

"No."

Before either of them knew what was happening, his lips were on hers, the kiss was slow and steady, as if they had done it a million times before, his hand clasped her waist, causing her to increase the pressure of her lips on his, Clarke ran her hand up his arm, coming to rest on his shoulder, then up to his neck, the now faster beat of his pulse beating against Clarke's fingertips. They stayed that way for what seemed like forever, until Clarke froze against him, unwillingly detaching herself from his warmth, stepping back, "I - I'm sorry." She stammered, "I shouldn't have done that." She flushed a deep red.

Bellamy stood motionless, staring at her, he snapped out of his trance, "Y - yeah. I didn't mean to - I shouldn't have..."

Words failed them both as they stood awkwardly in his apartment. They exchanged apologies and agreed on heading back to the car, Bellamy walked in front of Clarke, his hand closed around the holstered gun again as he put the bag he had retrieved from his apartment in the back seat. 

The two drove home in a total silence, neither wanting to talk about what they had done. Bellamy gripped the wheel tightly, he didn't regret what happened, but he knew the kiss was probably just brought on by the heat of the moment, the situation they were both in.

It was nothing, that's all it was. Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the feeling this was slightly rushed but don't worry im gonna slow things down after this


	10. Chapter 10.

They arrived back at the mansion in the mid-afternoon, it was warm enough outside the wispy clouds rolled lazily above. The sun beat down onto the mansion, almost lighting it up.

As soon as the car reached the front of the house, the front door flew open, Octavia and Abby walked out. Octavia practically flew down the steps and launched herself at Bellamy as he got out of the car, stumbling as he caught her. Abby remained at the top of the steps, glaring at them.

"You just took off!" Octavia held onto her brother tightly, he set her down. Octavia balled her fists and whacked his arm, "We thought you'd been taken."

"I texted you, O, we were fine."

"What? And you think Azgeda wouldn't have made you send a text like that to reassure me, use your head Bellamy."

Bellamy looked at his sister's furious face, he repressed the urge to look to Clarke for help, but noticed out of the corner of his eye her figure as she walked to her mother. "Octavia, I'm sorry, Clarke and I both needed to get some things from our apartments and sort some things out, I should have told you."

 

"Damn right you should have."

Bellamy pulled Octavia into a hug again, "You didn't tell Dad, right?"

Octavia gave a muffled reply that sounded like 'I had to'.

"Jesus Christ."

Everything else that happened next happened in a rush, nobody saw it coming, As Bellamy hugged his sister tightly, he noticed something out of place, something not quite right. He kept his grip on his sister, but raised his head to look around. Out of nowhere a loud bang rang out from somewhere close to then, then again, and again. Gunshots. Instinctively Bellamy tugged Octavia down behind the car, "Stay down!" He yelled over the gunfire, shielding her from any bullets. 

Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut, he'd been in gunfights and ambushes before, but this time it was different, he had to defend people he cared about this time. Various guards postioned around the manor house opened fire in all directions, not able to see their attackers, as they fired, bullets ripped into them, shaking their bodies as it tore them apart. Bellamy watched people he knew fall down dead, then turned his head back to look at Octavia. He pulled her to the side, reaching over to open the car door, bullets began to hit the door. "Get in!" He yelled to his sister, already pushing her inside, "Stay low!" 

"What about you?!" Octavia said panicked.

"I'll be fine!" 

"Bellam-" Her voice was cut off as Bellamy slammed the door shut, then frantically throwing himself around the front of the car, grunting as a bullet scraped his arm. He stayed on the ground, turning his head to see where Clarke had been, he noticed the front door open, and figured her and Abby must have gone inside. Good. He thought. Bellamy reached into his jacket, taking out the pistol, she switched the safety off and gingerly poked the gun out from the car, firing in the direction he thought the attackers were. 

Very suddenly, the gunfire stopped, the only noise were the birds from the nearby trees, the spring wind whipping around them, Bellamy dragged his gun back in, not knowing what was going on.  
Then, out of nowhere, and like a herd of panicked animals, dozens of men ran out from the trees opposite the mansion, firing their guns, Bellamy did a quick scope of the crowd, they were Azgeda. He swore loudly, reloading his gun, those fuckers had followed them back. Three men ran around to where Bellamy was, without hesitation he shot the man in the middle through the head, then attempted to fire at the other, hitting him in the stomach, he fell too. The other man launched himself at Bellamy before Bellamy had time to fire, he knocked the gun from his hands, and swung into his jaw with his fist. The men struggled on the ground, Bellamy struggling to gain the upper hand.

The larger man, swung into his face again and again, blood flying from Bellamy's mouth. His adrenaline kicked in and he freed his arms pinned down, his hands flew up to grab the man's face, and dug his thumbs deep into the mans eyes. He let out an unearthly scream. The man pulled his head free, his eyes bleeding horrifically, he raised his fist, hitting Bellamy wherever he could all over the face. Bellamy could feel his conciousness fading, he was sure it was the end for him, when the man suddenly stopped hitting him. His body slumped to the side, falling off Bellamy. He didn't even hear the gunshot, he looked to where it had come from, seeing Clarke standing in the doorway, aiming a pistol.

He was about to yell at her to go inside, before she took off down the stairs, skidding to a halt beside him and dropping down. "Bellamy, you're hurt!" He didn't listen to her words, he only focused on the blood that covered Clarke, "A - are you?" He spat out some blood, his own bloodied hands reaching for hers, she didn't have time to answer before rapid machine gun fire broke out. He reached out to grab her, pulling her down, "Stay still." He whispered repeatedly in her ear. He could feel her trembling all over, like some vulnerable injured animal. Guards fired from the now open windows of the mansion, hitting several of the men.

Somehow, through the loud, booming gunfire, Bellamy could hear the low rumble of cars in the distance, growing increasingly louder. He looked away from Clarke where they lay, and through the gap underneath the car between the ground and the vehicle, he saw a group of black cars speeding into the property, they slammed into several Azgeda men, who screamed on impact and were hurled across the driveway. The windows opened and guns fired from them, mowing down a significant number of men. The gunfire from the Azgeda's stopped, and the ones who weren't yet injured attempted to run, some making it back into the woods and some being killed by the guns. Men from the cars flooded out, and ran after the others into the woods.

Bellamy looked back to Clarke, and reached his hand up, moving her hair from her face, "Are you okay?" 

Her eyes filled with tears, her body shook against his as they lay on the ground, "My mom." The words shook as they escaped her lips, his hand came to rest against her cheek, "She got hurt?"

Clarke pushed herself off of Bellamy, her legs shaking, he only now noticed how much blood was on her. She looked around, her breath shaky, before running back up the steps inside. Bellamy grunted as he used the car to push himself up, he looked at Octavia through the window of the car, before turning to follow Clarke, he heard Octavia climb out of the car behind and run behind him into the house.

In the middle of the foyer, surrounded by deep red blood, Abby lay motionless. Clarke held her on her lap, her upper half bent over her mother as she sobbed and shook, Clarke ran her hand over her mother's hair, smoothing it down. Bellamy felt a hand slip into his, he looked down, seeing Octavia next to him, her eyes red with tears. He let go of her hand and instead put his arm around her as she leant into him. Bellamy looked back at Abby, she was dead, with the amount of blood there was she had to be, he saw several bullet holes in her body, in her stomach, her chest and her neck. Clarke called for her mother, as if it would wake her up, bring her back. The Azgedas must have followed them back, they had wanted to kill the Griffins, and they were almost there. He looked back at Clarke, at least grateful that she was alive.

"Clarke." He said, his voice feeling heavy, out of place in the situation.

"This is my fault." She said breathlessly, still holding onto her mother.

"No."

"Yes." Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, more tears escaping, "They followed us back because of me, my mother is dead because of ME!" Her sobs turned into shouts, her eyes wild and furious as she looked up at the Blakes, her shoulders shook as she looked back down at Abby's face, she stroked her cheek. "Where's my dad?" She said finally after what felt like an eternity of silence.

"In New York." The cold, calm voice of Antonio Blake appeared from behind them, Bellamy and Octavia turned, coming face to face with their father, who walked forward calmly, he glanced past Bellamy's shoulder towards Abby, "Tell me, Figlio," He stopped in front of Bellamy, "Why has this happened?"

Bellamy froze, words were failing him.

A harsh, smacking sound rang out in the foyer as Antonio's hand whipped through the air, connecting with Bellamy's cheek, "Tell me now."

"We went into New York, we got some things...we were followed back."

"Are you stupid, Figlio, I think you are, did you not anticipate this would happen?"

"We kept low, I-"

"But what does it matter? They followed you back, they killed Abigail, and now they know where you are, you are a disgrace to this family, Figlio." He turned his attention to Octavia, causing Bellamy to clench his fists, "And you, Figlia, did you not try and stop your brother, are you as useless as he is?"

"I - I didn't know."

The same slapping sound rang out again, Octavia's head turned as she was hit, a red mark blossoming on her cheek. The rage boiled inside Bellamy, and before he could stop himself he launched himself at his father. The two men fell to the ground, ignoring Octavia's cries for them to stop. Antonio practically kicked Bellamy off of him, and got up quickly, brushing his jacket down. He took advantage of his son's injured state and kicked him swiftly in the gut three times. He stooped down and lifted Bellamy up, "If you ever do that again, I'll put you in a grave." His father hissed, dropping him down again.

Octavia ran to Bellamy, throwing herself over him as if she were going to shield him from their father. Antonio walked over to Clarke, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Clarke flinched, "I am so sorry for the loss of your mother, Clarke, she was a dear friend." He let go of her shoulder, "Your father will be informed, and you will be moved to another safe house." Antonio walked off, telling some of the guards to get ready to transport Clarke.

Bellamy gently removed Octavia from himself, and she assisted him in getting up, she helped him over to Clarke.  
"Clarke, I-"

She held a hand up to silence him, "Just don't."

The two Blakes stood over the two Griffins in silence, nobody knew what to do or say, but simply let the weight of what just happened sink in. That this could have been prevented, that this was their fault.

And it was only going to get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so here’s the TEA, i’m in the middle of writing chapter 11, and i’m having a bit of writers block, on top of that i hurt my neck pretty badly so i’ve had to take some days off of school to recover so i think i might put the next chapter on hold until friday at the latest, i’m so sorry for inconvenience but i promise i’ll get it up by then <3


	11. Chapter 11.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooooooo I updated, this took me a v v v long time to do and it is ridiculous, but here you go :)

THREE YEARS LATER.

For over three years, Clarke didn’t sleep. Well, she did sleep, but not in the way a normal healthy person would. A regular night for Clarke included getting about four restless hours in before waking up in a cold sweat, tangled in her sheets, the image of her mother’s body stuck in her head, and the metallic smell of her blood filling her nose, even though it wasn’t there. 

That night was no different. Clarke’s eyes opened like a flick of a light switch being turned on, she wasn’t even entirely sure if she was even sleeping. She rolled onto her front to turn on the lamp by the bed. The warm glow bathed the room in a dim golden filter. Clarke sat upright, pushing the unruly strands of a bedhead from her face, catching sight of the stars through the ajar window. She stood up, the contact between foot and freezing cold floor was a shock through her legs, but enough to keep her awake. Clarke crossed to the window, the lake by her window stretched out towards the trees on the other side, the moon reflecting brightly off of it.

For the past three years she had been living in an old lodge on the outskirts of some rural town in Vermont. She had been brought here by one of Antonio’s men almost immediately after her mother’s death without even saying goodbye to Bellamy and Octavia. She was given a new name, Cassie Green, and a completely new identity. The last thing she had heard about the world from her previous life was around two years and a half prior, where her father had a high security visit to her where he informed her that her mother’s funeral had already happened without her, and that as far as the Azgedas knew, Clarke had died in the attack along with her mother, she was to spend as long as she had to in this town until the situation was sorted. There was no time given for how long it would take, she was totally in the dark. She was told that she wasn’t to tell anyone anything about her actual life, she was to have no contact from anyone from her old life who wasn’t her father or Antonio or one of two of his most trusted guards. She didn’t know if she was ever going to have her old life back, she didn’t even know if she had even said her own name in over a year. It wasn’t really her name anymore. She wasn’t Clarke. She wasn’t Cassie either. She was just nobody. 

Clarke let out a sigh, the only positive she got from these abrupt awakenings was being able to watch the sunrise. She grabbed a jacket from the end of her bed, and slipped into it. She held it closed against her front as she made her way out to the back porch. The sky still had stars, but the night was slowly fading away, the reddish gold of the morning approaching in the far distance. Clarke opened the back door, leaving it ajar as she sat down in one of the deck chairs. It was big enough that she could slide back into it and tuck her legs up.

Clarke closed her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t sleep, but the feeling was nice anyways. The fabric of the deck chair was slightly damp, but even in the early hours of the morning the summer heat was there, so the coldness was refreshing. She wasn’t sure exactly how long she had been sitting there, but when she had opened her eyes, more of the night had faded.

Clarke smiled to herself, this was definitely one of the very few highlights of her life now, aside from late night netflix bingeing sessions and drinking.

Out of nowhere, the doorbell rang throughout the house and drifted into the back garden. A deathly chill travelled down her spine.

Nobody ever came here. 

Nobody knew she was here apart from four people. They wouldn’t come here at this time and never without a warning. A primal survival instinct caused Clarke to jump from her seat and silently run into the house. The doorbell rang again, this time swiftly followed by a knock. Clarke slipped into her room, pulling open the top drawer of the dresser. She moved a few shirts aside, picking up something solid wrapped in a blue top. She pulled the piece of clothing away, and took out a pistol. Fully loaded.

She held the gun up, walking slowly to the door. Her legs shaking with each step. She swallowed hard, ignoring the unsteady, rapid beat of her heart. She reached out to the door, to the key in the lock, which she had stupidly left in overnight in a wine-drunken haze. She turned the key slowly, and yanked the door back.

“DON’T MOVE!” Clarke screamed, squeezing her eyes shut out of fear despite her mind screaming at her not to. She aimed the gun in front of her with shaking arms.

“Clarke…”

Her eyes opened without even thinking about it. The shaking in her arms ceased, and she lowered the gun. Her eyes welled up slightly at the figure before her.

“Bellamy?”

It had only been three years, but from the way he looked you could have sworn it had been ten. He had a beard, and his hair had grown out longer than it had been before. His eyes were still the same warm, dark brown, but there were traces of faint worry lines that stretched out from the outer corners. His mouth began to break out into a smile, one she hadn’t seen on him before. It was a smile that said everything he wanted to say, a smile of relief, of pure and sheer joy.

“I found you.” His voice was very clearly on the brink of shaking, which told her he was going to cry, he dropped a bag from his shoulder.

Clarke didn’t know how to react. So she looked away, putting the gun on the side table by the window. She noticed now that her legs were still shaking a little, and her chest had a strange tight feeling, “How did you find me?” Was all she could say, her heart hammering in her chest. She was barely able to register the fact that this was happening and that he was here with her. The urge to reach out and touch him just to make sure he was real was almost too strong to resist.

“It took me three years, and I never stopped looking for you, Clarke, neither did Octavia.” He stepped forward so that he stood in the doorway, one step closer to her. 

“You shouldn’t be here. It isn’t safe for you or me.” She didn’t move, looking away from the gun up at him, he smelled the same as he did two years ago, in a strange way it made her feel secure.

“I know, I’m sorry but I had to find you, to know if you’re okay, nobody told us anything, even the ones who knew you didn’t die acted like you were dead.” He reached for her hand, the touch of his hand brought her back to the moment in his apartment where they kissed, only now the skin was slightly more roughened, but still the same to her. Clarke pulled her hand away, walking to the couch, rubbing her face with both hands as she sat down.

“Is everyone okay? My dad? Octavia and Raven?”

“They’re okay…” He paused, turning to close the door, “But Raven, she…”

“Thinks I’m dead?”

“Yeah..”

“Christ.” Clarke put her head in her hands, “I would have tried to come back years ago, but they all told me that anyone who was involved with me was in danger, and they were right.”

Bellamy nodded, “You don’t need to explain yourself, I know and I wouldn’t want you to come back and get yourself in danger like that.”

She looked up to face him, “It’s not me I’m worried about, Bellamy.” This time, she reached out for his hands, which he took firmly, “How have you been?”

He smiled a little, “Not great. Spent three years searching for a girl who dropped off the face of the Earth in the middle of the night. I pulled myself out of dealing with Azgeda, it’s my purely father’s business now, still hasn’t gotten any better.”

Clarke sighed a little, “So no hope of coming back?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“At least you can stop looking for me, you found me. But why didn’t you just move on, you knew I was somewhere safe.”

“It wasn’t as easy as just letting you go, Clarke, I knew but...I just needed to see you, just so I could have physical proof nobody had hurt you.” He paused, his eyes dropping to their entangled hands, “Did you move on with your life?”

“This isn’t my life. My life is on pause, but I’ve tried to move on kind of, I have a job, friends, it’s all temporary though..at least I thought it would be, I don’t know anymore. I’ve sort of become too embedded in it now and I just accept it-”

“I just…” Bellamy looked back up at her, shifting forward on the couch, “I can’t let you go again, Clarke, I can’t.” He began to move even closer, his presence was like a magnet, Clarke felt herself leaning into him so their foreheads were touching. His breath was gentle against her face, if there was one thing she wanted to do more than anything it was to just be with him in that moment, it was something she had thought about a lot over the past three years, but she couldn’t. The timing couldn’t be worse.

“Bellamy, I can’t.”

“Why not.” His hands had left hers, and were now gently placed around her face, his fingers gliding loosely over her cheeks, catching onto the strands of her hair. Their lips were dangerously close.

“I’m with someone.” The words escaped her mouth in a strangled breath, she shut her eyes as she felt his fingers freeze. The stayed in that position for a few moments, “I’m sorry.” She spoke quietly as he pulled away. His eyes slightly red, “It’s okay, Clarke, you - you moved on.” He tried to smile at her, “You’re safe and you’re happy.”

She watched as he stood up, his face was pointing towards the floor, he walked to his bag on the floor.

“Bellamy, you don’t have to go, you can stay here. For a few days...please.” She found herself blurting out. He turned to look at her, he opened his mouth to protest before closing to form a small smile, “Okay.”

Clarke stood up, walking over to him, “You can take my bed, I don’t sleep much anyways.” Her arms dangled by her sides, she wanted to reach out, to hold his again, but she couldn’t, it wasn’t right.

“No, no, I’m fine on the couch.” He smiled down at her. “You’re taking the bed and that’s final.” She said firmly. The next thing she knew she was hugging him, burying her face into his neck. A hug was fine, right? She told herself that as he held her.

“Thank you for finding me.” She whispered softly, holding him tighter as if her life depended on it.

His rested the side of his face on her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, the warmth of their bodies mingled into each other. This felt right to both of them, even though it shouldn’t.

And for the first time in three years, Clarke felt safe.


	12. Chapter 12.

Bellamy sat on the side of Clarke’s bed, his head in his hands. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his head where he saw her again for the first time in three years. The feeling was like a huge weight that had been removed from his shoulders, to see her safe and well, it made him feel like everything was going to be okay.

Bellamy lifted his head, looking around at the room. The walls were decorated with pieces of paper of various sizes with drawings filling them in all corners. He stood up and surveyed each one, she really had a gift for this, he traced his fingers along one she had done of trees outside of the house. He smiled to himself before moving on, stopping suddenly at one drawing in the middle. 

It was a drawing of him, she had captured his likeness down to the very last detail. He could see where she had erased and redrawn again and again, he took his hand away from the paper, turning in place as if he were going to run to her, to hold her again like he had done last night. He sighed, stopping himself. She had moved on, she had a new life now, one that he wasn’t in. 

Then, as if she knew he was thinking about her, Clarke appeared around the slightly open bedroom door with a soft knock, she smiled at him. “You sleep okay? I was just running in to grab some clothes.” She was already in the room, opening the drawer, “I called into my work, took the day off.” She shut the drawer, holding the clothes to her chest as she turned to him, “I’m guessing my day would be better spent catching up with you.” Bellamy nodded, “Yeah...thanks.”

When Bellamy was ready, he left the room to go into the sitting room, where Clarke sat on the couch, flicking lazily through a worn book. She closed it upon seeing him and set it aside, “So..” She said, watching him as she sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

“How has Octavia been?” 

“She’s been okay, helping me find you…” Bellamy glanced at Clarke as he spoke, slumping further into the couch, “She knows I left to go and find you, she wanted to come but I didn’t let her incase there was a trap or something from the Azgedas.”

“Yeah, makes sense.”

They both fell into an uncomfortable silence. Clarke quickly grabbed the TV remote and switched the TV on so the noise would fill the silence, but even as the two mindlessly looked at the screen, their thoughts were elsewhere. Bellamy could feel his heart thudding everytime he stole a glance at Clarke. She had changed so much, yet she was still the same girl who threw iced tea all over him in the middle of a busy New York street. “Clarke.” He found himself saying suddenly, turning his head towards her, she looked over at him, “Yeah?”

He faltered, his voice lingering in his throat, “Did you ever think of me?” He refused to take his eyes off her as she registered what he said. She glanced down momentarily, “Yes.” She continued to speak, “I thought about you a lot, and I regretted I never got to say goodbye to you.”

Bellamy blinked back tears, and swallowed the lump in his throat, “For three years I’ve been living with the fact that I’m the reason your mother is dead and you were gone, I should never have taken you to the city, Clarke, I’m so sorry, I’m just so-”

“Hey, hey.” Clarke pushed herself up and moved over to Bellamy, putting her arm around him, “It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.” She spoke soothingly, putting her head on his shoulder, “I’ve had a lot of time to think, too much time...It wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t mine. My Mom is gone but blaming ourselves isn’t helping anyone.” Clarke lifted her head, “Bellamy look at me.” She put her hand on the side of his face and turned it gently to face her, she wiped a tear from his cheek with her thumb, “You kept me safe. You saved me so many times and if it weren’t for you I’d be dead, I owe so much to you and you don’t even realise it. You’re a good person, Bellamy Blake.”

Bellamy’s lip quivered, and the feeling of Clarke’s hand on his cheek was a calming presence, but no matter what she said, no matter how many times she could have said she didn’t blame him or it wasn’t his fault, he knew it was, and that she should hate him for it. “Clarke, I-” 

He was cut off by a steady knock on the door, which caused Clarke to quickly drop her hand, “That might be McCreary.” She said quietly, getting up.

“McCreary?”

“My - uh - boyfriend.” Clarke looked away from Bellamy and went to the door, she paused and turned around again rapidly, “Nobody here knows that my name is Clarke, so just remember not to call me that.” She turned again and opened the door.

“Hey!” She hugged the tall man on the other side of the door, he was of a similar height to Bellamy, but he was considerably older than Clarke, a nagging feeling in the back of Bellamy's mind screamed this guy seemed like bad news, but for Clarke's sake, and the sheer ridiculousness of the thought, he ignored it. He kissed Clarke’s cheek, before catching sight of Bellamy, he frowned quickly. As Clarke stepped back she noticed McCreary's staring, “That’s Bellamy, he’s an old high school friend visiting.” Clarke stepped aside so Wells could walk in, she shut the door behind him. Bellamy stood up as McCreary came over to him, “So you know Cassie from school, I’m Paxton McCreary.” He extended a hand, Bellamy took it and shook it firmly, “Bellamy.”

Clarke appeared beside them, smiling slightly. 

Bellamy glanced at Clarke then back at McCreary, “So how did you and, uh, Cassie meet?” He couldn't stop himself from smirking the tiniest bit as he said the name. He tucked his hands into his pockets. 

McCreary reached out and hooked his arm around Clarke and pulled her close to him, causing Bellamy to tense a little. “We met at a party about a year ago, we’ve been dating ever since.”

McCreary stayed for about an hour, with Clarke mediating the conversation regularly to prevent it from becoming tense and awkward. Bellamy noticed that whenever he as much glanced at Clarke, when he looked back, McCreary was staring at him, and not even being discreet about it. When he announced he was leaving, Bellamy had to force himself not to do give a huge sigh of relief in front of him. 

“Cassie?” He spoke in a mocking tone as Clarke shut the door, she grinned and punched him lightly on the arm as she walked by, “Shut up.” She collapsed down into the couch with a sigh, “I’m so sorry about that, he must have seen that I wasn’t at work and wanted to drop by, he always does that.” Her tone at the end of her sentence sounded as though it was traced with annoyance.

“Seems kind of weird he just leaves work just to see what you’re doing when you aren’t there.”

“He’s just looking out for me..”

“Yeah, sure but you’re not a child, Clarke, he doesn’t need to babysit you.”

“He’s not babysitting me.”

“Clarke, c’mon, he-”

“What’s so wrong with him wanting to see if I’m okay? And what has it got to do with you, you aren’t a part of this relationship, Bellamy!” Clarke snapped, her nostrils flared slightly. Bellamy’s face fell a little as the truth hit him again. She was right. He wasn’t a part of this relationship, Clarke wasn’t his to worry about but that’s what he had been doing for the past three years without even being next to her. It bothered him that someone else was now looking after her, she didn’t need him anymore. “I’m sorry, Clarke.” He murmured, getting up from the couch, he walked towards the back porch, opening the door and stepping out. He kept walking towards the lake, he stopped right at the edge, so that the water gently touched his shoes. He stood silently, just looking around at the lake surrounded by trees, the only thing he could hear was the breeze that swayed the leaves in the trees so they rustled quietly, so quiet he could barely hear it. Bellamy turned instinctively when he heard a twig snap behind him, only to be met by Clarke, who pushed against his chest, sending him into the water. She howled with laughter as he sat back up, his hair dripping wet, the sight of her laughing was enough bring him out of his own self pity as he began to laugh too.

“Is that your way of apologising?” He smirked.

Clarke bent down, splashing water onto him, “I felt bad for snapping, felt like we both needed a laugh.” 

“Well, I know one way you could make it up to me.” Bellamy got onto his knees, lunging for her arm. 

“No, no!” Clarke shrieked in between laughter as Bellamy pulled her down into the water, she fell on top of him, sending them both under the water, the water itself lifted her off him and she floated aside. She stood up in the water as Bellamy stood up too, she relentlessly splashed water at him, “You asshole!” She grinned, attempting to move away as he came towards her, she slipped on the dirt at the bottom of the lake, falling backwards. She instinctively reached out as she slipped back, Bellamy catching her hand. He pulled her back up in one swift motion, not realising how close it brought her to him. 

Clarke found herself holding onto him in the water as if it were about to drag her away from him, she was holding him as if he were her life line. She didn’t protest as his hands slid down to her waist, bringing her even closer, in response her arms weaved their way to rest on his shoulders, she moved her head forward so her forehead was pressed against his lips, which were soft against her skin. She let her legs drift in the water as they knocked into his.

To both of their surprise, it was Bellamy who spoke first, “Clarke, maybe we shouldn’t do this, I mean, you’re happy with McCreary.” Bellamy let his hands slip from her waist as she slowly moved back in the water. 

Clarke looked down, she didn’t even know if she was happy with McCreary, he had been good to her, but he had a temper and she was wrong in attacking Bellamy when he pointed out the obvious fact that he was overbearing, something that she had noticed before but didn’t want to admit it. She’d also be lying to herself if she said that when she was with Wells, she wasn’t thinking of Bellamy. She shut her eyes, wishing the water would just engulf her so she didn’t have to deal with this, she opened them again after a few moments, “No.”

Bellamy frowned, “No?”

“I - I don’t love McCreary, Bellamy.” She blurted out, her chest heaving, she couldn’t believe she had just said that.

“Then why are you with him?”

“I don’t know...I work with him so he’s always around and - and he has been good to me but…”

“But what?”

“There’s nothing there, deep down there isn’t anything real.”

Bellamy focused on her, “So is that what you want? Something real?”

Clarke shrugged, letting out a deep sigh as she sunk lower in the water, “What I really want is for everything to go back to the way it was, but it won’t.”

“It might, you need to have hope, Clarke.”

“That’s easier said than done...and soon you’ll have to leave, and then I don’t know if I’ll even see you again-”

“You will, Clarke, I told you I’m not losing you again, and if that means I have to live in some God forsaken town in the middle of nowhere and give up everything I have and everything I worked for in order to be here with you then I’ll do it, I don’t want my life in New York if you’re not in it.”

Clarke was stumped, she stared at him, her face confused, “Why?”

“I thought I made it obvious.” Bellamy glanced down.

“I don’t-”

“I love you, Clarke, I know it probably makes no sense to you but I do, I’ve known you for years, since we were teenagers, granted I couldn’t stand you for most of it,” He smirked a bit, “But ever since I went to your apartment to tell you I was sorry for what you saw in the basement, I knew there was something about you that was special.” 

Clarke didn’t know what to say, she stood in the water, speechless, unable to take her eyes off of Bellamy.

“You kept it to yourself, you have this capacity to just do good for anyone, no matter who they are or the lengths you have to go to do it. But since that day, every time I saw you, I kept falling for you a little more each time, and then at my apartment...that kiss it just...confirmed everything I thought I felt, then everything happened after and I thought I was going to lose you in that gunfight, I would have gladly put myself in between a bullet and you…” Tears began to run down his face, but they blended in with the water that ran down his face from the lake, “But then I did lose you, for three years, I searched for you for all that time and now I’ve found you, and I understand you can’t be mine and that’s okay because I want you to move on and have a normal life, but I won’t stop loving you, Clarke, I never will.”

Clarke’s heart was going at a million miles per hour, she was so confused, she was angry at him for telling her this, but at the same time she was overjoyed, it was the only thing she had wanted to hear for three years. But it would be no use, it didn’t matter if he stayed in the town because they would be found, whether that be by his father or the Azgedas, there was no way that this was going to end with them having a life together. Deep down she knew he was better off without her. She did love him. She loved him so much it made her heart ache, and it was so quick, nobody should love someone so quickly after hating them, but they couldn’t do this.

Clarke took a shaky breath and tore her eyes away from Bellamy, she turned in the water and waded her way to the land, she walked out, folding her arms across her chest as she walked back into the house, the door closing quietly behind her.

Bellamy watched her as she walked away from him, he didn’t even want to cry anymore. As the door shut, he knew he was too late, he was always going to empty without her, and there was nothing he could do about it.


	13. Chapter 13.

It had been around six hours since Bellamy had told Clarke he loved her, and it honestly couldn’t have been more awkward, who now sat in the living room in the early evening sunlight. She twirled a now dry strand of hair around her finger as she let her mind wander back to the lake. She thought about what would have happened if they hadn’t of pulled away from each other in the lake, if she had told him she loved him too. She could guess that if she had, Bellamy wouldn’t have gruffly announced he was going out for a while as he walked through the house in new clothes.

Clarke glanced at the clock on the wall, he had been gone for hours now, and she’d be lying if she told herself she wasn’t worrying.Polis, where Clarke had been living, wasn’t a big place. The town itself consisted of one narrow high street with a few local stores, a cafe and a bar. She reckoned that Bellamy would go to the one place for miles that you could get a drink. 

“Fuck it.” Clarke cursed to herself, getting up and grabbing the keys to her pickup truck off the coffee table. She left the house, locking the door securely behind her as she crossed to the truck. The drive into town was around fifteen minutes, and the roads were thankfully clear. She parked the car along the sidewalk, the small car park around the side of the bar was full. She got out of the car, shutting the door with a slam. 

Clarke trudged along to the wooden doors, she pushed one open slightly, peering in for a moment before stepping in. She had only been here a handful of times with McCreary and a few friends from work. It was dimly light, with a rather dark colour scheme of forest green and mud brown. Her eyes scanned the booths, tables and bar before spotting Bellamy sitting at the front of the bar.

She sighed, and proceeded to the bar stool beside him. She climbed onto it without saying a word, but she saw Bellamy’s head incline towards her a little. He hunched further over his drink, and it was then she noticed just how many were on the surface in front of him.

“You having fun here?” She tried to sound normal as she spoke, not quite meeting his eye.

“Hmph.” Was all Bellamy replied with, taking the half full glass and emptying the rest of the contents into his mouth. He blinked hard, then fully looked at Clarke, “You want one?”

She shook her head, “I’m driving.”

“I walked.”

“Well, I’ll take you back.”

“Not now.”

“You can’t stay here all night Bellamy.”

He smirked to himself, sliding the glass across the table from hand to hand, “Good thing it isn’t night yet.” 

Clarke sighed, “One drink then, I suppose.” She raised her hand, catching the attention of the bartender, “Beer, please.”

“Didn’t think you were that type of girl.” Bellamy sniffed, moving his hair from his eyes as the bartender filled a pint glass.

“What did you think?”

“I don’t know,” He smiled a little, some of the light in his eyes there used to be, “I thought you’d be into martinis or something.”

Clarke gave a snort of laughter as the bartender passed her the drink, she slid the money across the bar, “Well, I’m pretty sure I could drink you under the table.”

“Wanna bet?”

Clarke paused, her eyes still on Bellamy, it was moments like these that made her feel as though they were normal, just two people at a bar having a good time. She wanted to talk about what happened in the lake, but it was too raw for both of them. She dragged her eyes away from him as she took a drink, pretending as if there wasn’t a fire inside of her at that moment and that it wasn’t burning for him. 

“Maybe another night.” She said finally, setting the drink down. 

“Too bad.” Bellamy gave her a half-smirk, his eyes glittering from the dim lights. It was then she noticed the bags under his eyes, he was as tired as she was, maybe he never slept too.

“Come on, let’s get you home, Bell, you’re drunk.” Clarke spoke firmly, swigging down the rest of her drink before standing up. She took hold of his arm firmly, helping him stand as he protested, then fell quiet as she put his arm over her shoulder to support him. She walked him out to the car, helping him into the passenger seat.

Clarke trudged to the opposite side of the car, getting in with a sigh. She pulled out onto the road, driving along the high street and out onto the back roads which led to the lodge.

Once they were back, Bellamy collapsed onto the couch, his eyes half shut, Clarke leant over him, she was exhausted too, for the first time in a while she felt as though she could actually sleep, “C’mon, Bell, you need to get to the bed.” She yawned. 

Bellamy didn’t seem to respond, she noticed the light flutter of his eyelids, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He was sleeping. Clarke let a small smile spread on her face as she watched him. He seemed so young when he slept, so at ease.

Clarke sat down slowly beside him, careful not to wake him. Maybe she should just rest here, just for a while, she thought to herself as she slowly sat back, leaning into him so her head rested on his shoulder. Bellamy must have not been entirely asleep yet as his arm lazily moved to gently rest by Clarke’s head on the back of the couch, and the right side of his face was leaning on her head. She curled into him, feeling herself fall asleep. It felt right. And for the first time in a while, Clarke slipped off into an actual deep sleep.

She woke what she could only assume was many hours later, the early morning light was brightly beaming in through the front window, bathing them both in it. Clarke lifted her head from Bellamy’s shoulder, only now registering the proximity of their bodies. She carefully disentangled his arm from around her and stood up, stretching out.

It was a saturday, meaning she had no work, another day she would have to spend creeping around her feelings for Bellamy. She trudged to the shower, closing the door behind her and pulling her clothes off and stepping in. The shower was hurried, and she roughly towel dried her hair in front of the mirror. She wrapped the towel around herself and quickly crossed to her room and got changed. 

Once she was ready, she walked out to the living room to check on Bellamy. He was still asleep. She grabbed a blanket thrown across the armchair opposite the couch and laid it over him, causing him to stir and shift on the couch, but still asleep. She made herself busy in the kitchen, she was never really much of a chef as she brought out toast and coffee for him, laying it down on the table in front of Bellamy. She gently shook him, “Bell, wake up.”

He groaned as his eyes opened, he stunk of alcohol. He gave Clarke a small smile as he saw her, it was the first time Clarke had been the first thing he saw when he woke up, he could get used to that. 

She took her hand away from his shoulder, “You should eat.” She gestured to the plate in front of him, she picked up her own and ate quick. He slowly made his way through breakfast, before turning to Clarke, “I’m sorry for being such a mess last night.”

“You weren’t that bad.”

“I hope not.”

Clarke set her plate down, pausing for a moment, “I was thinking..” She cleared her throat, “I know Azgeda aren’t going to find me here, and that I’m safe, but if there is the tiniest chance I’m not, I want to know how to fight.”

Bellamy rubbed his eyes with his hands, “But you have the gun, I found that out when you aimed it at me.” He smirked.

“Well, you’re the one who taught me.” Clarke retorted jokingly.

“I’ll teach you to fight, you are right, it would help if something happened.”

“So...right now?”

“Let me get ready first, then I’ll show you.”

“Okay, thank you.”

After Bellamy had showered and gotten dressed, Clarke waited for him in the living room, where she had pushed the furniture aside. She gave him a broad smile as he approached, “I’m ready.”

“Teacher’s pet, huh?” He stopped remarkably close to Clarke, their hands almost touching. Clarke tilted her head up to look at him, the closeness set her heart off again, for millionth time this week.

“I’ll go easy on you.” Bellamy promised.

“Don’t hold back.” Clarke shook her head, imitating the only fighting stance she knew.

“People are going to try and get you vulnerable, which for nearly everyone is when they’re on the ground,” Bellamy suddenly moved at Clarke with a swiftness she had never seen, within seconds he had swiped her legs out from beneath her with his own, she hovered inches from the ground as he caught her, his hands holding her up from the small of her back, “If they get you on the floor, you kick at them, if they’re a man, go for the groin. If you can’t fight back, you protect your weak points where they can do the most damage, that’s your head and stomach.” He pulled her up so she stood upright.

He let go of her, moving back a step, “Hit me.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Clarke, try and hit me.”

Clarke got back into the stance, raising her balled fists as she jabbed out towards Bellamy, who moved aside to avoid her. She tried again, each time missing him. 

“You’re not trying.”

“Yes, I am.” She grunted, lunging for him again, and failing.

“You’re holding back, Clarke, you need to forget that I’m don’t want to hurt you, you need to pretend I’m Azgeda, hit me like your life depended on it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

“I can take it, Clarke, now just pretend.”

Clarke took a deep breath, repeating three words over and over in her head. That’s not Bellamy. She squeezed her fists tighter together, copying his footwork, she jumped forward lightly on her feet, throwing her fist through the air. He blocked her with his two hands, Clarke took advantage of where his hands were and jabbed at his stomach, hitting him harshly. He moved back, giving her a reassuring nod, “Good, try again.”

Clarke kept hitting at him, this time managing to connect her fist with his face, he let his guard down for a moment, allowing Clarke to punch him hard in the gut. He coughed out, grunting as he straightened up.

“Are you okay?” 

He nodded, “I’m okay. I’m gonna attack you back now, alright?”

“Alright.”

Clarke didn’t even have time to get ready before Bellamy charged at her, his right arm hooked under her left armpit and his left hand grabbed her wrist to stop her from hitting him, he ran her into the wall so she was pinned between the wall and him. The both of them were breathing heavily, the only noise in the room were them panting. 

“If you had a gun, I would have just stopped you from using it, that’s what you do if someone is going to shoot you, okay?” 

Clarke nodded quickly, “Okay.” Her voice escaped in a tiny whisper, why did everything they did together end with them being practically on top of each other. 

“You can’t be scared of the fight, Clarke, when the adrenaline kicks in you have to do whatever you have to in order to stay alive, you’re stronger than you think.”

Clarke found herself moving her face closer to his, all the noise from the outside drowned out as she focused in on him, it was as though she had tunnel vision, all she could see was him, and that’s all she wanted to see. 

“Clarke, what are you…” He trailed off as Clarke gently pulled her right arm away from his grip, and let her hand rest on the side of his face, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb, “I’m sorry.” She whispered quietly, “I just...I’m sorry.” She pulled her face back, slipping out from under him and walking to the back porch quickly, well aware he was staring at her. Clarke felt her cheeks flush as she went outside, her body felt warm all over, and her heart pounded ecstatically, she wanted to run back inside and have him hold her, to kiss her and to do things to her she could only dream about. No. She told herself, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Clarke..” 

She turned slightly as he walked out onto the porch with her, “Are you alright.” He moved around to stand in front of her, his face full of concern.

She tried to stop herself from speaking, but the desire to say everything she wanted to say became too much. 

“Three years, for three years I thought about you. I wanted to go back to New York, I wanted to do it for you, not for anyone else.” Clarke took a shaky breath, “But I didn’t because I convinced myself that you were better without me, and that I was better without you. I don’t want that, I know I - I know I want you, Bellamy, I have for over three years..”

Bellamy swallowed, reaching out for Clarke’s hand, which she grasped, intertwining their fingers, “Then say it.”

Clarke fell short, her eyes on his face as she strained to get the words out, ignoring the protests from her head, and her heart screaming at her to say it.

“Tell me you love me.”

“It’s not as simple as that...”

Bellamy's expression softened, almost with disappointment, “You don’t know if you do, Clarke, I want you to be sure when you do, so if now isn’t the right time then that’s okay,” He slowly let his fingers slip from her hand, “I’ll wait for you, however long I have to.” 

He took his eyes off her and went back into the house, Clarke let a tear escape her eye as Bellamy disappeared from sight, she turned away, sitting on the steps to the porch, letting the cold air engulf her. She shut her eyes, cursing herself for not being able to say it, for letting him down again.


	14. Chapter 14.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING
> 
> Very sensitive issue coming up in this chapter and I am sorry, if you do not feel comfortable reading it then it's completely fine. Also I did change the character around because the one who was originally supposed to do this just didn't make sense and I felt so bad.

Moments after Bellamy had walked in, Clarke followed. 

“Bellamy.” She called after him, catching his arm as he made his way for the door, turning him around to face her, “Are you leaving? If it’s because of what I said I - “

He held his free hand up, “It’s not because of that Clarke, I’m not a teenage boy, I’m not gonna throw a tantrum about this,” His face softened into a smile, “I’ll come back, I promise.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back to New York.” He gently removed Clarke’s hand from his arm, grabbing his duffel from the armchair. Clarke swiftly moved around him to position herself between him and the door.

“You can’t go back, I won’t let you.”

“I’m not in any danger there, Clarke.”

Clarke lowered her head, taking a long breath, “Yes, you are. You always are.” She looked up again to face him. 

“Hey.” Bellamy reached out to her, pulling her into a tight hug, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle, he rested his hand on the back of her head, “I told you I’m not losing you again, Clarke, I’m coming back.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “And maybe then you’ll be ready to tell me you love me.” He murmured into her hair. 

He let go, glancing around the room, “I’ll have to convince my father to let me stay here, there’s no point trying to hide from him here, he’ll find me.”

“Why do we even have to stay here?” Clarke said suddenly, surprised at herself for suggesting something so impulsive.

Bellamy shook his head, “There’s a reason my father took you here.” He ran a hand through his hair, “I figured it out at the bar, this town is in a place controlled by the Floukru family - another rival mafia, lesser known but still powerful,” He added, noticing Clarke’s confusion, “We’ve hated them for years, and the Azgedas hate them too, they’d never step foot in here and they would never expect that any from my family would be here, my father must have worked something out with the leader, Luna, or something.”

“So...I can’t leave?”

“Not right now, it’s the safest place for you at the moment.”

“I just - I just want to see my mother’s grave, my grave even,” She let out a strangled laugh, “I have a grave…” Her voice cut short, her eyes falling to the floor.

Bellamy didn’t know what to say as he watched her.

Clarke suddenly jerked her head up, her eyes shining bright with tears, “Do you remember, when my mother died, right before the fight ended...there was a man on top of you, and I - and I shot him. I killed him.” Clarke’s bottom lip quivered, “I killed someone and I shut it out, I never thought about it. I killed him without thinking, I just saw you, about to die and I just fired.”

Bellamy took a step forward, his voice soft, “Clarke, if you hadn’t of done that, I’d be dead, you saved me...think about that, he was a bad man...I wish you didn’t have to do it, God there's nothing I wish more, but that’s the way it was, and I’m sorry.”

“Am I a monster?”

Bellamy took a hold of her shoulders, “No. You never could be a monster, don’t ever think that.”

He let his gaze linger on her, getting lost in the moment again, he could feel reality’s sadistic grasp pulling him away from her. His hands dropped, grazing hers as they did, “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Bellamy walked around Clarke to the door, pointedly not looking back as he left the house, he began to walk up the road away from the lodge, determined that he’d come back.

 

Clarke stood by the door, her arms wrapped around herself, the silence in her home was deafening. The silence was interrupted by her own sigh as she slid over the back of the arm chair and sunk into the leather. Her eyes closed out of their own will, her mind transporting her to New York. For a moment she imagined she was in her old apartment again, listening to Raven going off about mechanics or something else that confused Clarke.

Her mind took off again, leading her towards Lexa, she hadn’t dared think of her in years, but she couldn’t resist as she imagined her old lover touching her the way she used to, the longing, desperate kisses placed up and down her neck, the way they lay intertwined throughout the night. 

Clarke’s brows furrowed as her mind unwillingly took her back to the night she found out what Lexa did, the guilt on her face as she told Clarke about the woman in the club that night, how she didn’t come home because she was with someone else. That was the night she realised there was no future with them. And it ruined her. Clarke still believed deep down that Lexa was her soulmate, that she still loved her but in the past three years, those beliefs had shaken, and it was all because of Bellamy.

He had only been gone a few minutes, but she already ached for him. Her mind was full of images of him, the way the corner of his mouth turned upwards whenever he smirked subconsciously, the way his brown eyes sparkled as he smiled and laughed. She envisioned the way he held her in the apartment, the way his lips felt against hers. It had been three years ago but she could remember nothing as vividly as that. She thought about when they had been in the lake, the way her arms wrapped around him as if she would never let go, the heat from their bodies cancelling out the cold from the water. She felt as though nothing could touch her when she was with him, and that’s how she wanted to be. With him. Forever. Because she loved him, and it had been a growing thought in her mind for years, but she knew it was real.

That night, and for the night after she went to her bed thinking of him, the sheets smelling of him where he had slept those nights before, she wished that she had been in there with him. With the smell of him surrounding her, she dropped off into a deep and uninterrupted sleep.

She woke up in the late morning, a day later, wondering if today was the day he was going to come back. She groaned and slid out of bed, trudging sleepily from the room. 

Clarke paused as her eyes landed on the front door, which was slightly ajar. She frowned. Did she forget to lock it? No. She remembered locking the door. Maybe it was Bellamy? He could have come back already, she did give him a key during the week, but it didn’t make sense, he wouldn’t have just barged in.

Clarke glanced around, “Bellamy?”

Clarke grunted as someone ran at her from the side, pinning her against the wall and clamping their hand over her mouth, she screamed against their hand, scrabbling to get free. Her eyes snapped open, they widened in shock when she saw it was McCreary. She stopped resisting for a moment as she saw the fury in his eyes, and it terrified her.

“So your name is Clarke, huh?” He snapped, taking his hand off of her mouth, shoving her other shoulder into the wall, digging his thumbs into her skin.

“I - I..”

“Answer me!”

“Y - yes!” She yelled, her body shook, the terror taking control.

“What are you gonna do, Clarke? Call out for Bellamy to save you?” He let one hand go and stroked the hair back from her face, Clarke recoiled, trying to move her face away. This angered McCreary, who pulled her off the wall, and threw her down on the ground, in response, Clarke let out a cry.

“He won’t hear you, babe.” He stretched his arms out, kneeling beside her, “I saw you two in the lake after I left, I knew something was up with you two, those looks you kept giving each other.”

“I’m sorry.” Clarke gasped, winded from hitting the floor.

“For a whole year you led me on, used me,” He grabbed Clarke by the throat, who struggled and kicked against his much larger body, “You never even told me you loved me.” He glared at her with pure hatred, “You love him though, that useless fucking scumbag.” 

McCreary stood up, pushing his hair away from his face, “What was wrong with me?! Didn’t I look after you? I made you happy,” He spat on her, “Or at least you pretended to be happy.”

Clarke rolled onto her back, she took a several deep breaths, “You...you’re going to get the fuck out before I call the police.”

McCreary dropped to her level, grabbing the back of her neck, and pulled her close to him violently, “I have a better idea.” 

He shoved Clarke down again, rolling her onto her front, keeping a firm grip on the back of her neck as he fiddled with the buckle on his belt, “You’re gonna learn a fuckin’ lesson, Clarke.” He put emphasis on her name.

Clarke’s eyes widened as she realised what was about to happen, she screamed out, trying to force her head up to get away from his grasps, she struggled and squirmed like a fish out of water. She kicked her legs out violently, but McCreary knelt on them, pinning them to the ground.

Clarke reached out behind her, clawing and scratching at him with poor coordination. To her fortune, her nails came into contact with his face, scratching across his cheek. His hand left his belt momentarily, and flew up to touch his face. He brought his hand away, a drop of blood resting on his fingertips. “You’re really fuckin’ asking for it, aren’t you.”

Clarke’s body went rigid as an uncontrollable anger and humiliation swept over her, she was blinded by fury. All she saw was red. The only words she managed to speak with any kind of control of her voice were;

“If you do this, or if you touch me again, I’ll kill you.”

McCreary pulled her up by her neck far enough up so that he forced her head to be directly under his, his hand snaked around to the front of her neck, where he stroked the skin, causing sickly chills to shoot down Clarke’s spine. She gritted her teeth, still struggling. His other hand went around to her front, grabbing onto her breast, then snaking down to her front. The moment his hand travelled down, Clarke reacted.

She thrust her head forward, breaking free of his grip, before slamming her head back into his face before he could grab her. He yelled out, falling off her legs as his hands flew up to hold his nose. Clarke scrambled forward, yelling as a hand closed around her ankle, pulling her down hard. She grunted as she hit the floor. McCreary rushed over and flipped her onto her back, he straddled her and hit her in the face as hard as he could. Clarke only barely managed to stay conscious as blood flew from her mouth.

Clarke’s survival instincts kicked in, her hands flew up to shove McCreary’s face away, and her legs frantically scrabbled to work their under McCreary’s gut, before she kicked with all the force she could muster. He groaned and doubled over, falling off of her.

Clarke spat blood, her head spinning as she got to her feet, she grunted as she kicked him in the gut again, tears spurting from her eyes.

“YOU SICK, SICK FUCKER!” She screamed at him, before running into her room to find the gun she kept, she grabbed it out of the dresser, and raced back out again.

She grabbed McCreary by the collar, and pushed the gun against his head, her finger trembled over the trigger, she breathed heavily through her nostrils, “Give me one fucking good reason I shouldn’t kill you.” She seethed.

McCreary’s mouth opened, his eyes travelling from the floor to look at her, “I know...who you are..and who he is..” He inhaled, his hands were shaking, “I can help you both...the Azgedas are onto you.”

Clarke’s heart stopped for a moment, she blinked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Drop the pretences, Clarke, if you let me go, I’ll divert them, send them somewhere else so they won’t find you.”

“I don’t believe you.” She pressed the gun into his head harder, McCreary kept his stare solid.

“I’m a man being held at gunpoint, do you think I’m in any position to be lying.”

“I think…” Clarke spoke in a quiet tone, like a calm before the storm, “That you’re a man willing to say anything to spare his own pathetic life, I can’t believe I wasted a year on you.”

“You won’t kill me…” His eyes glittered, he grinned, a sickening and sadistic grin, “I know what you’ve done, Clarke, I don’t think you’ll do it again.”

Clarke bit her lip, her finger dangerously close to pulling the trigger. Instead, she raised the gun, slamming it over his head, knocking him out.

Clarke turned the safety on and threw the gun aside. She stumbled backwards against the wall and slid down it, running her hands over her face before bursting into tears.

She had never felt as vulnerable as this. And she hated it.


	15. Chapter 15.

The walk into the local town of Polis took Bellamy around half an hour, his duffel thrown over his shoulder he walked with his head down. He needed to find a public phone. He had specifically left his phone back in New York so he couldn’t be tracked.

As he walked, he looked up at the evening sky, the calm tranquility and beautiful golden palette of the sky took him back to the moment at the lake, the way he held Clarke so close to him it was as though he could feel her heart beating. The moment had been brief but it had made him feel complete.

He shook his head, he had acted like an asshole, accusing her boyfriend of being obsessive purely because he was jealous. In fairness to him, he seemed like a decent guy, and Clarke deserves a decent man. But he couldn’t ignore what she told him, that she didn’t love McCreary. Bellamy wanted Clarke to tell him that she loved him, that she would be with him forever, but despite what Bellamy said and hoped, he wasn’t so sure if that was the best thing for her.

The whole point of loving someone was keeping them safe, and his life was anything but that, and she would be safest away from it, but that was not what he wanted.

Bellamy shut the nagging thoughts out from his mind as he reached a payphone on the outskirts of the town. He took some coins from his pocket and inserted them into the machine. He quickly typed in a number and help the phone to his ear, the dial tone repeating as he waited.

“What?” The voice at the other end of the phone came, it was Octavia. 

Bellamy smiled to himself, “Hello, O.”

“Oh my God, Bellamy, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry,” He suppressed the smile, “How are you?”

“Ah, I’m fine, it’s only been a week since you saw me. I’m guessing you found her?”

“I did.”

“And she’s okay?!”

“She is.”

There was a brief silence that ensued, before Octavia came back, “I want to see her.”

“O, I don’t-”

“Bellamy, I’m not a child, I want to see her. You don’t need to shelter me.”

“I know, I know.” Bellamy ran his hand through his hair, “I just need to make sure that it’s safe enough to bring you here, but I’m coming back to New York to talk to Dad about why I’m gone.”

“He knows.”

“You told him?!”

“No! I’m not an idiot, Bell, but neither is he. He put two and two together when you up and left and didn’t even come up with a good excuse.”

“Seemed good enough to me.”

“Well whatever, he hasn’t gone looking for you yet.”

“I’m glad he hasn’t. He causes trouble wherever he goes,” He paused, swallowing before speaking again, “The reason I want to talk to him, is because I want to stay out here.”

“What?!”

“I just - I want to be with her, and I’m not happy in New York, I never was, I could have a normal life here, O, so could you!”

“But our lives are here, Bell, family is family we can’t just leave. Where even are you anyways?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone.”

“Right, but I’m guessing it has to be far away enough so that she’s safe, I don’t know if you should do this. Can’t you wait until the situation blows over and she can come back to New York with us?”

“It’s never gonna be safe there, O, but it is here, listen, I’ll talk more about it when I get back, okay?”

“Alright, love you big brother.”

“Love you too.” He hung up the phone, backing out of the phone booth. He sighed, before carrying on with his journey.

Bellamy ended up back in New York a few hours later, he managed to hitch a ride to the nearest bus station from Polis, which was an hour away, and from there it was a straight ride across the state border. He got off the bus at a small town outside of the city, deciding to stay in a small hotel for the night, gather his thoughts and be ready to face his father. 

Upon arriving at the Blake mansion the next day he was greeted by Octavia, who threw herself into her brother’s arms, “I missed you.” She held him tightly, “Stay for a few days.” She pleaded as they walked up the steps together.

Bellamy sighed, “I told her I would be back as soon as I can.”

“You need a few days to get your affairs in order if you’re planning to leave New York for good.” She spoke with a hint of annoyance without looking at him, “Will you tell me where she is now?”

“Vermont.”

“That’s not even far away.”

“Well, it’s safe either way.”

The front doors to the mansion were pulled open by the guards, Octavia immediately went off to the side to stand beside Lincoln, who she had begun dating a year ago. He put his arm around her, making eye contact with Bellamy who nodded in his direction. His attention on the Lincoln didn’t last long before the cutting voice of his father filled his ears.

“The Prodigal son returns.” Antonio stood before his son, the remnants of a sneer etched across his face, “Do you know what I have done to keep the Griffin’s safe, Figlio?”

Bellamy's eyes darkened, “Judging by Abby Griffin’s grave, not enough.”

Antonio didn’t react, he paused, before stepping closer to Bellamy, “I know where you were, and there was a reason I didn’t tell you where she was, because you seeking her out could compromise everything.”

“It’s been three years, father.” Bellamy spat the word ‘father’, “She should have been able to come back years ago.”

“Investments take time, Figlio,” Antonio looked his son up and down, “And who knows, maybe she’ll want to stay where she is.”

“Then I want to stay with her.”

Antonio couldn’t stop himself from suppressing a smirk, which only angered Bellamy, “Why?” He inquired. 

“I can look after her. Keep your ‘investment’ safe.” He growled.

“And it has nothing to do with the feelings you have for her?” Mocked Antonio subtly.

Bellamy said nothing, only glaring at his father.

“Hmph.” Was all his father said, maintaining the eye contact with his son.

“I’m going back to her,” Bellamy breathed, “Now you can support me in that, or not, I don’t care, padre, I can keep her safe. You can tell Jake that.”

Antonio let out a sigh, placing a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder, his grip then tightened as he pulled his son closer so his mouth was hovering by his ear, “Go then. But if anything happens to her, it is on you. And you will suffer beyond imagination.” 

Bellamy stared at his father, surprised by how easy it was to convince him, he knew there were ulterior motives for his father saying that, but in the moment he didn’t care, he was freeing himself of the chains his father put on him his whole life. Bellamy said nothing as he turned to leave, stopping as he caught sight of Octavia.

He went over to her, pulling her into a hug, “Come with me.” 

Octavia pulled back, her mouth open but no words came out. She clung to her brother’s arm, shaking her head.

“O.” He begged quietly, desperate for her to come.

“Everything I have is here.” Octavia looked down, “I can’t leave it.”

Bellamy looked down at his sister, sniffing back tears. He had no plans to ever come back here again. He looked up to Lincoln, who held Octavia tighter as she kept her eyes on the floor.

Bellamy nodded to him, “Look after her.”

Lincoln nodded in return, “I always will.”

Bellamy hugged his sister once more before turning away from his family, taking shaky breaths as he walked to the front door. After he left the house, he walked far away enough that the house and the road it resided on was out of sight and called a taxi. He told him the address of his apartment. He expected his father would freeze his accounts and sell his apartment, so he needed to get what he needed from there as soon as possible.

When they arrived, Bellamy hurriedly paid the fare and ran in. He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door, the apartment still had the same distinct but faded burnt food smell. That was home to him. His eyes surveyed the apartment before they landed on the spot where he kissed Clarke. He found himself walking over, shutting his eyes and imagining he was in that moment again, he reached his hand out, expecting to feel her cheek resting in his palm, but all he felt was air. His eyes opened and he closed his fist, lowering it.

He turned on his heel, but only to be met with a gun aimed at his face. Bellamy froze, raising his hands, the person holding the gun was wearing a black ski mask, “Sit down on the couch.” They ordered, it was clearly a female’s voice.

Bellamy wasn’t in any position to argue as he slowly walked to the couch, the gun still aimed at his head, “What do you want?” He said as she sat down.

The woman stood in front of him, the gun now aimed between his eyes. She reached up, tearing the mask off. A mass of dark brown hair fell from the mask, and her eyes bore into his. It was Echo. She scowled at Bellamy as she readjusted the grip on her gun, “You know, Bellamy,” She spoke in a cool, low voice, “It wasn’t such a good idea leaving Clarke by herself.”

Bellamy tensed, his fists clenching. Echo rolled her eyes, “Oh, calm down, I don’t know where she is, but even a fool could guess that you were with her. I saw you entering the city after a week of seemingly dropping off the radar.” She smirked, “And you aren’t the only one looking for Clarke.”

“Leave her out of this.”

“Not gonna happen. She’s so important, I mean, without her being safe and alive, Jake wouldn’t be doing dirty work for your father.” Echo paused, “Except, Clarke isn’t safe. Your father essentially has her hostage, and now has her dad wrapped around his little finger, am I right?”

Bellamy looked away, she was right. It was a truth he had been denying, Antonio was manipulative, he knew by being in control of Clarke’s life, he could make Jake do whatever he wanted him to do, and in those three years that had been some pretty big things.

“What do you want?” Bellamy repeated himself.

Echo sighed, sitting down on the armchair opposite, she slowly placed the gun down, “I want your help.”

“What?”

“I sent a man to go and find Clarke around two years ago without telling anyone from my family,” She reached for a bag beside the armchair Bellamy hadn’t seen, she took a folder from it, “His name is Paxton McCreary, he’s usually a hitman, but he’s an excellent tra-”

“Wait, sorry, did you say McCreary?”

Echo paused, “Yes?”

“Have you got a picture?”

“Do you know him?”

“Just give me a Goddamn picture!” Bellamy snapped. Echo gave him a strange, suspicious look before handing the file over.

Bellamy seized it from her hands, frantically flicking through it to land on the picture, his heart stopped, this was the same McCreary that Clarke had been dating. He had left her right in the heart of the danger. He snapped the file shut, thrusting it back at Echo, “I have to go.”

“No. You can’t. I told McCreary he wasn’t to hurt Clarke when he found her, but..” 

Bellamy frowned, “But what?”

“I haven’t heard from McCreary in over a year, he’s a very strange and unstable man, and the last I heard of him aside from an email, he said he became infatuated with this girl named..” Echo trailed off, frowning, “I forgot the name.”

“Cassie.” Bellamy looked down.

“How did you know?”

“You know how,” He looked up at Echo, “If you tell anyone from your family about this..”

Echo glared at him, “I would never, I don’t want this life anymore, I hate it. I’m done with the killing and violence, so I am NOT telling them what you’re telling me. I’m on your side now.”

“I’m gonna need you to prove it to me.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet, but we’ll see, won’t we.”

Echo shifted uncomfortably, “Well, anyways, he became obsessed with this woman, who I assume is Clarke. He went native, Bellamy, and the reason I need your help is I need you to find him, and kill him, so he doesn’t report back to the police or my family on me and get me killed or arrested, I wanted to find Clarke first to use her as a bargaining method to get you to help me escape and do this whole thing earlier, but when you disappeared last week word got out that you had found her wherever she was, and so I just assumed I would let him go, I didn’t think this would happen”

“Why would he do that?”

“I cut off his payments last week, my brother began to get suspicious,” She looked down, “And he didn’t like that.”

“So you’re doing this to save your own ass?”

Echo sighed, then nodded, “Well, when you say it like that it sounds a lot worse.”

“Echo, you’re asking me to kill someone.”

“That’s nothing new.”

Bellamy fell silent, glaring at Echo from beneath the hair that fell in his eyes, “I’m not a killer.” He then sighed, “So I assume that you knew Clarke wasn’t dead because you were trying to find her.”

Echo nodded, wringing her hands nervously, “I knew.”

Bellamy sat back, sighing, “Couldn’t you have just gone there and done this yourself?”

“No, because I don’t know where he is.”

“What?”

“He tracked her down but he told me I wasn’t going to find out incase something bad happened and I tried to send my family’s men to kill him.”

“Right.” Bellamy rubbed his temples, “I’m trying to get out of this life too, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry, once he’s dead I have everything worked out. And we can both get on with our lives.”

“What will you do with his body?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Bellamy stood up, “I’m gonna regret helping you.”

“Then don’t think of it as helping me, think of it as helping Clarke.

Bellamy gave Echo a withering glance before walking off to pack his things from his room, his face clouded over in rage as he thought about what he had left Clarke with, he could have done anything to her, and Bellamy had just let it happen. He finished packing, storming out of the room, “C’mon.” He grunted.

One more kill. One more kill and it would all be over.


	16. Chapter 16.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very late and I have nothing to say for myself
> 
> also enjoy this rushed n racy chapter I am so ashamed but I had to

An hour after McCreary had attacked Clarke she hadn’t taken her eyes off of him since she knocked him out. She had nothing to tie him up with but when he woke up, and if he tried to attack her again, she would have to shoot him. She looked to the gun clasped in her grip. She pressed herself further into the wall, letting out a few shaky breaths. She drew her knees up to her chest, forming a kind of defensive position. Her eyes narrowed on his face, which seemed to still be unconscious. 

Clarke swallowed hard, “McCreary.” 

She waited for a reaction from him, to be sure he was truly unconscious, but he didn’t move. Clarke blinked, pushing herself up the wall. She readjusted her grip on the gun before walking towards McCreary. “McCreary.” She said again, her voice shaking. Still no reaction. 

Clarke drew her foot back, one more way to really test that he was knocked out, she swiftly kicked into his gut. Before she could pull it back, he launched himself up, latching himself around her leg. She fell back, the gun firing into the ceiling and falling from her grasp. McCreary regained control, his face manic and animalistic as his hands closed around Clarke’s throat, squeezing and leaning all of his weight onto her.

“You fucking bitch!” He screamed hoarsely in her face, his yells drowning out her chokes and gasps for air as her hands scrabbled at his face and his hands, “Making me fucking fall in love with you, you fucking whore!”

His arms shook as he squeezed tighter, Clarke felt like her head was about to explode, and that she wasn’t able to hold on much longer, the only thing she could hear was the ringing in her ears, and the sceams pouring from McCreary’s mouth, “If I can’t have you, neither can he.” 

Clarke finally saw her vision darken, and the feeling of suffocation finally taking effect caused her to lose the sensation of McCreary’s squeezing and tightening hands around her neck, it almost felt too real, as if he had actually let go. 

The screaming and cursing from McCreary ceased as he heard distant shouts and grunts coming from what sounded like a million miles away. Clarke’s eyes fluttered shut, still attempting to grasp onto life. If someone had gotten McCreary off of her, it had to be Bellamy, nobody else knew she was there. 

“Clarke?” An unfamiliar voice came from above her, but it was though she was trapped under ice, she was trying to break through to consciousness as her hearing finally came into focus. She felt someone pull her weakened body into their arms, and she knew they weren’t Bellamy’s, but rather belonged to a woman. 

“She’s alive…” The woman said, her voice heavily laced with panic, “Jesus, look at the mark on her neck.” 

“Let me see her.” 

The voice that cut through after the woman’s was Bellamy. It was then that Clarke found the strength to open her eyes. She felt her body be transferred from the woman’s arms to his, and her whole body lift off of the ground. She refused to take her eyes off of him as she struggled to speak, what came out was only able to be said in whispers, “Is he dead?”

Bellamy nodded, laying her down onto the bed, panic and worry plastered over his face, he turned to the woman behind, a tall brunette Clarke didn’t recognise, “Get rid of him.” He said to her, she nodded hurriedly and walked out. He turned back to Clarke, his hand reached to her face, gently removing the hair from her face.

“Your clothes are torn..” His voice was shaking with anger, “Did he-”

“No.” Clarke whispered, “Tried.” She added, unable to form a sentence without the pain.

She focused in on his face, she had never seen that kind of anger on him before. She moved her hand to rest over his, she wanted to say something to him, she just didn’t know what she could say.

“We need to get you to the hospital.” 

Clarke shook her head, “Just bruising.” She managed to say.

“Clarke-”

She tightened her grip on his hand, shaking her head. She didn’t want to go anywhere, she had just got him back, and right now the last thing she wanted to do was leave, “Just stay.” She whispered, taking her hand off of his, and turning onto her side. She heard the front door shut, and the sound of a car driving off.

Bellamy stood up, “Sleep, okay, I’ll get you painkillers.” He walked out of the room, leaving the door open. Clarke listened out to hear his footsteps grow quieter. She sat up, her hand gingerly touching her throat, she stood up and crossed to the mirror in her room.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she looked at herself, McCreary did more damage than she thought. Her throat had a purple-blue discolouration in the shape of two hands around her neck, her lip busted open, another bruise on her cheekbone, scratches on her chest and collarbone, and some more bruises on her arms and legs.

As she stared at the injuries, her eyes travelled upwards, catching sight of Bellamy in the doorway reflected in the mirror. He was looking at her with despair and regret, the painkillers in hand. She noticed his eyes were slightly red with tears.

“I shouldn’t have left you. I’m so sorry, Clarke.” 

She didn’t respond for a moment as she walked back to the bed, slowly lowering herself onto it, “Who was he?” She asked, referring to McCreary.

“He was someone sent to find you after you left by one of the Azgedas, he - he lost sight of what he was meant to do, I guess he fell for you, he was unstable.” 

“He was going to kill me.” She croaked, looking at the floor.

“I would never let that happen.” He walked over, sitting beside her.

“You can’t. Not if you aren’t here.”

He didn’t know what to say, he wanted to pull her closer to him, but she was too shaken up. This was his fault.

“I just want to sleep.” Was all she said after a long silence, she lay down, Bellamy still sitting on the bed. He watched her as she lay still on her side, her eyes wide open. After a few minutes he stood up, and walked silently to the door.

“Come back.” Her small voice drifted through the room towards him, he stopped, glancing back at her. She still wasn’t facing him.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was walking over to the bed. He sat down on it again, lying down beside her on his back, his arms either side of him. She gave off a comforting heat, and her hand reached down behind her back, finding his. She held onto his hand tightly, her fingers interlocking with his.

“Don’t leave.” She whispered, her voice heavy with fatigue.

“Never.”

 

Clarke woke up during the night, the ache in her throat flaring up every time she swallowed. She lifted her head from the pillow, her hair falling in her face. It was then she noticed the presence of another person in the bed, and her hand in theirs. She panicked for a brief moment, before seeing Bellamy. The calmness of his face as he slept sent a reassuring wave of relief through her, like he was an anchor in an incredibly stormy sea. She slowly removing her hand from his, and slipped off of the bed onto the floor. She looked around the room, terrified she would spot McCreary lingering, ready to attack her again, ripping at her clothes, wrapping his hands around her neck.

She folded her arms, and crossed her room, and out into the hallway. There was a dim light coming from the living room. She shoved the fear inside her away, and dismissed it as Bellamy maybe leaving a light on accidentally. But curiosity led her to the living room, she stopped when she spotted something red on the floor. She bent down, reaching her hand out to touch it. It was wet, she raised her hand up, the light glinting in the redness. Blood. 

Clarke blinked hard, and wiped it down on her shirt. She went to the window, as if waiting for him to come back. But he was dead. Bellamy had told her, and she believed him, but the primal and defensive fear inside her caused her to stay, and protect herself at all costs.

 

A few days had passed since McCreary had died, and neither she or Bellamy had talked much. The woman who had arrived at the house with Bellamy, named Echo, had returned a few times to give them updates, and to apologise profusely to Clarke. Bellamy had refused to leave the house, he wanted to keep an eye on her and make sure she was okay, but the two of them practically avoided each other in the house, or rather, Clarke did.

The swelling had gone down a few days ago, and the bruise had mostly disappeared and the pain with it. She found it easiest to not think about what happened when she was at the lake, so she sat there most of the time, throwing various stones and rocks into the lake.

She sat there now, in the mid-evening setting sun, the air was cool, but not enough to send chills through Clarke. She shut her eyes, imagining she was back in New York with her friends, her father, her mother. That was when her life was good. Her daydream was interrupted by the sound of her name being said behind her.

“Clarke.”

She opened her eyes, turning her head slightly so she could see Bellamy standing behind her, “Please, talk to me.” His voice was desperate.

Clarke looked away, “What do you want me to say?”

“That you’re okay, or if you’re not, you’ve barely said anything to me since I got back.” He sat down beside her, looking into her eyes, which she refused to meet.

“Do you think I’m okay.” She said finally.

“No.”

“And do you think it’s your fault?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s not.”

“I left you alone here, I just shouldn’t have gone-”

Before Clarke knew what she was doing, or why she was doing it, she had pushed herself up onto her knees, and leant forward to meet her lips with his, her hands leaving the ground and gently holding the sides of his face. His arms wrapped around her middle in response, almost falling backwards in the progress. It had been three years, but the kiss made her heart race the way it did when it first happened. She suddenly forgot everything that had happened, all the things that kept them apart, it was just them, in the moment, and nobody else could stop them.

“I love you too.” She whispered as she pulled back briefly, far enough so that she could register his reaction as she spoke, his eyes widened a little, the worry lines quickly fading from his face, the corners of his mouth turning upwards before pulling her back towards him again. They fell back onto the grass, and she moved swiftly so that she was on top of him. To her surprise, a few tears escaped her eyes as she lifted her head up for a moment. Bellamy noticed it too, and moved his hand away from her waist to wipe the tears from her face, “You’re okay now.” He said quietly.

“I know.” She whispered back, straightening up a little as she took her hands away from his face to pull her shirt upwards. He was taken aback for a moment, before smiling a little.

“Are you sure?” He asked, as she pulled her shirt over her head, discarding it on the grass beside them. 

She reached for his hands, and guided them around her back towards the clasp on her bra, which he gently undid, letting it fall from her, “More sure than anything in my life.” 

He wasn’t looking anywhere but at her face, pure adoration radiating from his, he reached up to her face, tucking the hair behind her ears, before gently pulling her face down to meet his. He sat up suddenly, his arms still around her. 

She then realised in that moment this was what she had been looking for, the safety she hadn’t known in years. It was always him, and it was then she realised the danger would never matter again, as long as she was facing it with him. It was all going to be okay.


End file.
